Crossroads
by Alcestis
Summary: The long awaited insert story to Walking A Thin Line. Nakago and Miaka have been enemies, acquaintances, friends and almost everything else inbetween. Almost...
1. Beyond the Boundaries

**Insert Story: Crossroads**

**Chapter 1: Beyond The Boundaries**

She ran faster than she had ever run before. The sense of urgency she felt, this sensation of something wrapping around her heart and soul, constricting them until she could barely breathe…she had felt this several times in the past, but never had the feeling been so strong or so foreboding. Her lungs burned with the exertion and from the lack of sufficient oxygen, but she did not dare to stop, because stopping would mean losing…

…and Miaka vowed to herself that she would not lose. Not now. Not when it came to this.

It had almost been too late when she finally sorted out all the conflicting thoughts and emotions which had been plaguing her. The realisation had come suddenly, but strangely enough, she had accepted it without much shock or surprise. The truth of the matter was that she was in love with him…had been in love with him since the day he had kissed her in that sunlit glade beside the river… Nakago might have meant it solely as a twisted practical joke designed to enrage Tasuki, but to Miaka, the kiss had been achingly real. Although she had tried to pretend that nothing had changed, deep down she knew that the only person she had been fooling was herself. _Even Tasuki, in the midst of a drunken stupor, had been able to see it, _she thought bleakly.

He was everything to her. Protector, friend, her greatest critic and her worst enemy…somewhere along the line, Nakago had become the other half of her soul. An important part of her past, an integral part of her future.

She came to an intersection and found, with rising panic, that Nakago was nowhere to be seen… Sometime in the course of the last few seconds, she had lost sight of his tall, distinctive figure. Miaka did not notice the fact that people were hurrying past her with umbrellas in hand, nor did she realise that the sky had darkened ominously until a hard, driving rain began to fall, quickly soaking her to the skin and turning her hair into a wet, bedraggled mess, but she never stopped running…

She lost track of the passage of time as she continued her search. Minutes, maybe hours passed, and still there was no sign of him. The streets were now deserted. She slipped and fell many times on the water-slicked pavements, but kept her spirits up by consoling herself that it was fortunate no one was around to see her fall and thoroughly embarrass herself repeatedly. Each time, through sheer force of will, she managed to pull herself upright and keep going. _Until I find him… _

Miaka could feel her body trembling with cold and exhaustion. Her legs were beginning to buckle under the strain, and it was becoming more and more difficult for her to keep putting one foot in front the other. She found herself unable to focus her eyes, blinded by rain…or were they tears? _Must keep on looking…cannot stop—_

The next instant, her foot hit yet another slippery patch of pavement. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as she felt her body moving against its will, and for one brief moment, she was weightless, flying…

A sharp, searing pain exploded across her consciousness, like a bright flash of lightning across a dark horizon. She was dimly aware that she was on her back now, staring up dazedly into the grey sky. She tried to move, but found that she just could not summon the strength to even lift her head. It was as if her arms had turned into lead weights and she could barely feel her legs. Everything seemed to be getting darker; the black shapes at the edges of her vision were rapidly closing in, folding her into their velvet embrace.

_Iie…not now…cannot…lose…onegai…_a tiny voice in her mind whispered as she valiantly fought against unconsciousness. There was the faint sound of a footstep somewhere nearby and a vague impression of a shadow falling over her prone form, blotting out the last of the watery light…And then, everything faded to black.

Overhead, the rain continued to fall.

* * *

Miaka had been wrong when she had thought that there had been nobody to witness her numerous falls and the pain which resulted from each one. He had watched her, stealthily following her through the rain, barely noticing his own wet clothes plastered to his body. Intellectually, he knew that what he was doing was illogical, unacceptable by his own personal standards, but…

He had not counted on the Suzaku no Miko's persistence…or her recklessness. She had somehow sensed his intention to leave and had come after him. Once again, he had underestimated her. The little waif seemed to have a talent for de-railing all his plans…more disturbing, however, was the distressing tendency he seemed to have for miscalculation when it came to her, given the fact that he _never_ made the same mistake twice with anyone. Nevertheless, even though his initial attempt to distance himself from her had gone awry, it had been a simple matter for him to disappear out of her sight down a small shadowed side alley and wait for her to pass by. The logical thing to do after that would have been to head in the opposite direction, away from her and out of her life once and for all.

And then, it had been at that precise moment that it had began raining.

He'd expected her to seek shelter like every other sane person, to give up and go home…but instead, she had never faltered in her search, allowing herself to be drenched in the downpour. Despite his determination to sever all ties with her, the instinctive need to ensure her safety compelled him to shadow her movements. _Like a stalker, _his mental voice commented acidly. He rationalised his actions by telling himself that the girl was Murphy's Law personified…left on her own, anything that _could_ possibly go wrong often _did _go disastrously wrong…

Why was she taking this to such extremes? _Loyalty to a friend? What does the little fool think she's doing?_ Nicholas' lips thinned in barely-contained anger.If the Suzaku no Miko did, in fact, possess even an ounce of intelligence, she was certainly doing a very good job of convincing him otherwise. He knew how much she valued her friends; he even understood why she would try to stop him from leaving…but to run herself to the point of exhaustion through the cold wind and rain while looking for him, slipping and falling on the wet pavements every so often? Even the bonds of friendship had their limits, and she was only making things unnecessarily difficult for both of them. It simply did not make any sense. _Not unlike so many things about her…Not unlike how I feel about her. _He tried not to think about it. It had not been easy for him to watch her hurt herself over and over again; something inside him twisted every single time she fell down, echoing her pain. He saw how she was tiring rapidly, how her slender body shook with pain and fatigue…and how it took her a little longer each time to pick herself off the ground. He closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to stay emotionally detached, fighting against the overwhelming urge to reveal his presence to her.

Silver-blue eyes abruptly snapped open when he sensed that something had happened in that split-second he had been preoccupied with the internal battle being waged between his mind and his heart. Nicholas immediately refocused his attention on Miaka, only to find that she had lost her footing once again. He tensed and waited for her to get up like she had so many times before.

Something was wrong.

A cold trickle of alarm crept through him as the seconds ticked by and there continued to be no sign of any movement from her. Disregarding his earlier resolution to stay away, he was beside her in an instant. Kneeling, he rapidly assessed her condition, reassuring himself that she was still breathing. He allowed himself the luxury of letting out a slow breath and felt the tension in his shoulders ebb slightly when he realised that she was merely unconscious because she had severely overtaxed herself. Still, even though she had been incredibly lucky not to have broken any bones, she had a nasty bump on the back of her head, and there was the very real possibility of a concussion.

Mercilessly repressing the anxiety which was threatening to take hold, he forced himself to think rationally. His first concern was getting her out of the rain…she was likely to contract pneumonia if allowed to stay out here any longer. Mentally running through the very short list of available options, he briefly considered taking Miaka back to her home and letting her family deal with her. Unfortunately, she lived almost halfway across the city, and the weather seemed to be taking a turn for the worse. That only left him with one choice…which also happened to be the least attractive.

It took all the self-control he had at his command to prevent himself from grinding his teeth together in agitation as he gently lifted her limp body off the ground, and started off in the direction of his own apartment which was less than two blocks away. Nicholas was by no means happy about the way things were turning out, but chose not to think of the monumental mistake he was no doubt making. _So much for the best laid plans…_he reflected bitterly, knowing that however much he wanted to deny it, he would never have left her out in the rain.

* * *

Miaka felt herself moving… only problem was, she wasn't doing it under her own power. Dimly, she registered the sound of a key turning in a lock and a door being pushed open. Her entire body was sore, and her head felt as if it was going to split in half. It dawned upon her that she was being carried somewhere, and then, a short while later, she was set down on a soft surface. _Nani? What's going on? Where am I? _

Memories came filtering back slowly, and she remembered running through the rain, looking for Nakago; slipping on the pavement—…She could still hear the rain falling, but it was at a distance, not beating down on her like before. Apparently, someone had rescued her and brought her indoors. _The shadow…I remember seeing someone's shadow…_She was having trouble focusing her thoughts because of the throbbing pain in her skull. Trying to open her eyes only served to intensify the agony, so she opted to keep them closed for the moment. It did not take long before another realisation slammed into her. Nakago would be long gone by now, gone forever. She would never see him again. The sense of failure loomed large in her mind and she wanted to cry; the future had never looked so bleak and empty as it did now. Her clothes were still soaking wet, but whatever cold she felt on the outside could not compare to the frozen despair that was spreading within her.

Without warning, she felt something—…no, someone touch her.

Someone was unbuttoning her blouse.

Her eyes snapped open in panic and she lashed out wildly with her arm in a desperate attempt to defend herself. Everything flared white with pain at the sudden movement, and she was unable to see her assailant. Despite the protests from her sore muscles, she began to struggle fiercely when she felt her wrist being trapped in a firm, uncompromising grip.

"I see you've finally decided to wake up. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to undress you myself."

She started violently at the familiar, deep voice which penetrated her consciousness. Her vision cleared slowly and she found herself staring into a pair of piercing silver-blue eyes. Their owner returned her gaze with an impassivity which she had come to associate with him, but had never quite gotten used to. He silently studied her in the most unnerving way for a moment, then released her abruptly, almost as if he had just realised that he'd been holding a snapping turtle.

"Nakago…? Where…How did—" Relief soared through her, making it hard to speak. Somehow, he had come back…

"Your clothes are wet," he interrupted brusquely, not seeming to notice that she had been talking, "I would appreciate it if you didn't stand there dripping on the carpet and the couch. Their value will plummet if they're water-damaged," his voice was flat and matter-of-fact. Tossing a towel and a dry shirt at her, he turned and walked out of the room without another word, firmly shutting the door behind him.

All at once, Miaka became apprehensive, the hope which had reawakened at finding him beside her when she had regained consciousness dimmed slightly. Something about the way Nakago had closed the door was deeply troubling…it was as if he was shutting himself off, distancing himself from her. He had not quite slammed the door in her face but had used enough controlled force for her to suspect that he was extremely angry. As usual, he hid his emotions very well, however, with all the time they had spent together, she had learnt to read the subtle changes which signalled his moods. In other words, Nakago's unnaturally calm demeanour was roughly the equivalent of barely-concealed fury had he been anyone else. It did not bode well for her.

She looked around, taking in her surroundings in detail for the first time and knowing instinctively that she was in his home, the most personal of places. Surely he would not have brought her here if he didn't at least care a little bit about her…would he? She was filled with a sense of wonder as she stood in the middle of what appeared to be the living-room. Stark white walls devoid of any decoration or paintings contrasted with sleek black furniture and the grey of the polished granite floor. It seemed that the rich tones of the intricately designed carpet under her feet and the delicate green from the glass bowl holding a cluster of ferns resting on a glass table-top were the only hints of colour in the room. Sparsely furnished and coldly elegant, everything about it suited him perfectly.

It also made her feel like an intruder.

Miaka shivered. She would catch a cold if she didn't dry herself off soon. Glancing uneasily at the door Nakago had disappeared through, she took a deep breath and quickly stripped off her wet clothes. She used the towel to dry her hair and hurriedly pulled on the white shirt he had given her; her fingers fumbling clumsily with the buttons. The bottom hem hung almost to her knees… more than enough to protect her modesty, while the long sleeves clearly extended past her fingertips. _This shirt belongs to him…_Miaka slowly wrapped her arms around herself, luxuriating in the feel of the fine fabric against her skin, hugging the soft material to her body. It smelled fresh and clean…_Like him, _she decided, biting on her lip as she tried to stop the heat rising to her cheeks at the thought.

_Okay Miaka, you've found him…now what are you going to do? _she wondered nervously. She had been so intent on her pursuit earlier that it had not occurred to her to plan ahead. _Tell him how you feel, _a voice at the back of her mind suggested. She padded barefoot to the plate-glass window that made up one entire wall and peered out through the rain-streaked barrier into the gathering dusk, watching the colourful pinpoints of city lights coming on one by one. _But…how? And what if he doesn't—_

The thought went uncompleted when the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She had not heard any sound, but she had a disconcerting sense that she was no longer alone in the room. Whipping around, she nearly had a heart-attack when she found him standing behind her. He had changed out of his own damp clothes into a pair of casual black slacks and a black tank top which showed off the lean, smoothly-muscled contours of his body and contrasted sharply with his blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, and she once again fought the tell-tale blush that was spreading across her face.

He ignored her and stared out of the window over the city, "You should never have followed me today, Suzaku no Miko," he stated in a dangerously quiet voice, his tone cool and remote. He wasn't talking to her…he was talking at her in the way she hated most.

Miaka flinched as though she had been slapped, "Don't call me that," she said weakly. She did not understand why he would want to leave…or why was he pushing her away. Had she done something wrong?

"No? What would you have me call you? Miaka?" Nicholas forced himself to say with biting sarcasm, "I don't wish the familiarity. Do not mistake me for one of your loyal pets." The deep hurt that flashed through her expressive hazel eyes at his harsh words clawed at his conscience and tore into his soul. It did not help that she looked so small and vulnerable wearing one of his shirts…he refused to let his mind proceed any further down that particular avenue of thought—no conceivable good could possibly come from such distractions—and ruthlessly tuned it out. _For both our sakes, _he reminded himself, trying to justify his actions and ignore the unexpected ache in his heart. He wished that she wouldn't make things any more difficult than they had to be, but if he had to destroy the friendship he had with her in order to protect her…then so be it. His mind was made up; he would leave Tokyo the following morning.

She stood stunned by the cruelty of what he had just told her; her fair skin turning a whiter shade of pale. When she found the strength to speak again, her voice trembled with pain and she sounded close to tears. "But…I thought we were friends…" she stammered desperately, "You were going to leave without a word! I couldn't let you—"

"It was none of your concern. The choice to leave is entirely mine. I am merely exercising that right," he enunciated the words slowly and very deliberately, speaking in the manner he often used when conducting a business transaction. Nicholas purposely avoided looking at her, and instead kept his eyes fixed on the window behind her; knowing that his resolve would waver if he had to watch her crying. His nerves were fraying rapidly, _I should never have brought her back here. _"It has stopped raining," the statement came out terse and clipped. "Go home, Suzaku no Miko. You don't belong here." The strain of holding the expressionless mask in place was beginning to show…and he did not want her to be anywhere near him when his hold over his emotions finally snapped. _Go home, Miaka. Go back to Tamahome. Don't force me to hurt you any more than I already have._

"I don't believe you…Why! Why are you doing this…?" she whispered. "I forgave you for deceiving Yui and killing Hotohori. I forgave you for…for everything…but the one thing I would never have forgiven you for—…I would never have forgiven you for leaving…" Miaka knew that she had to somehow show Nakago how much he meant to her, or she would lose him forever.

She was moving even before she could give herself a chance to think, impulsively hurling herself at him. Crossing the short distance between them with a speed borne from fear and desperation, she was driven to act by sheer instinct as she grabbed his upper arm. The hard bicep muscle under her fingers tensed instantaneously at the contact, but she did not give him a chance to push her aside. Standing on her toes, she stretched upwards as far as she could and kissed him on the mouth, pouring everything she felt into the kiss…

All the others, he had taken from her. This was the first kiss she had given him willingly.

He did not respond.

Taka had been wrong, Miaka thought, her heart sinking. It was as she had feared…Nakago did not feel anything for her. And now, she had taken the biggest gamble of her life…and lost.

* * *

Nicholas had not been prepared for the small body which had hurtled at him so quickly that he barely had time to register what was happening before he felt her lips on his. He froze as she kissed him, his mind going uncharacteristically blank at the unexpected turn of events. A raging torrent of emotions flooded over his senses, swirling around him and entwining themselves with his soul. It took him a moment to identify the emotions as belonging to her; everything she was feeling…all the pain and the fear, the confusion…

…and all the love she felt for him. It poured over him like liquid light. Clear. Pure. Unconditional.

She was trying to tell him that she loved him. The discovery and the accompanying realisation raced through him, uncovering truths he could not ignore or deny, leaving him feeling slightly light-headed and making it hard to think. She had come after him; risking life and limb to follow him, first in Kutou, and then again in this world, not out of friendship as he had assumed, but because she loved _him_, not Tamahome. Now, she was risking her fragile heart, leaving herself open and defenceless. His rejection would crush her. All he had to do was to stand here…and do absolutely nothing.

His heart began to speed up, even as he felt her starting to pull away. Her abject disappointment and despair tugged at him…she was giving up, mistaking his lack of response for indifference. Somehow, the thought of not caring about her—of even wanting to leave—seemed ludicrous now…

In one single moment, everything had changed. The last of the barriers which he used to keep his feelings locked away and separate crumbled into nothingness, and all at once, he was free. Free to stop hiding how he truly felt…

Free to love her.

Suddenly, the need to rectify the conclusion she had no doubt reached regarding his apparent apathy towards her became a matter of the utmost importance.

Sliding his hand up to cradle the back of her head, he held her to him as he moved his mouth against hers, effortlessly taking control. She jerked in startled surprise. Her eyes flew open and she tried to say something, but he silenced her by carefully deepening the kiss. Masculine satisfaction surged through him when she submitted with only the slightest of hesitations and sagged warmly against him.

Strawberries. Fresh, sweet and powerfully intoxicating. There had been others before her…women older and more sophisticated than she was, many of them spectacularly beautiful, but none of them had ever had the same profound effect on him as she did. None of them had ever managed to capture his heart. He kept his lips gentle but demanding, allowing himself to taste her fully.

Miaka let out a tiny whimper of need and unconsciously pressed closer to him, her body's innocent reaction alerting him to the fact that things were going too far, too fast. _Enough for now, _he decided reluctantly, studying her through half-lidded eyes as some semblance of logic reasserted itself once more. The terms of their relationship had altered dramatically, but it was still too soon for anything else. If he permitted this to go any further, they would end up in a situation for which neither of them were prepared…in the future, perhaps, but not now. She wasn't ready to take that step, nor would he allow himself to take advantage of her. Certain things, were well worth waiting for…Nicholas gradually eased the passionate intensity of the kiss, stroking the sensitive nape of her neck with his fingertips in consolation and making her shudder with heightened awareness at each fleeting touch of skin against skin. With one last feather-like caress, he slowly lifted his head, finally breaking the kiss.

She stood very still for the space of three lilting heartbeats, flushed and breathless from his sensual assault, before she uttered a small indecipherable sound and hid her face against his chest, her ears turning vividly red. She mumbled something, but the words came out muffled and indistinct. The corners of his mouth curved with genuine amusement at her behaviour, the first he had felt in what seemed like a lifetime. It felt…good. Languidly tracing a path along the delicate line of her throat to the underside of her jaw, he sent silent thanks to whatever divine power which had granted him the precious gift of her love, even after everything he had done to her…_especially_ after everything he had done to her. Cupping her chin with his hand, Nicholas tilted her head up, coaxing her to look at him. She trembled in his grasp, and her big hazel eyes held the tense, frightened expression of someone desperately wanting to believe in the reality of something but at the same time afraid that it might turn out to be only an illusion. _Arigatou, dear little miko…for being stubborn enough not to give up. _He ran his thumb along her quivering lower lip, rosy and temptingly kiss-swollen.

"I love you," she whispered almost inaudibly. A single tear ran down her face, splashing on his fingers. "You were always there…always helping me. It didn't feel the same with Tamahome anymore…I was so scared…felt so guilty…then suddenly you were going to leave and I couldn't imagine my life without you. I didn't know what to do…" she broke off, her small body shaking with sobs as she began to cry in earnest, "I…I didn't know how else to tell you and—"

He gave in to the urge to kiss her again and lightly brushed her mouth with his own, stilling her tormented cries. Meant to soothe and ease her doubts, the tender pressure of his lips held a unspoken apology for all the anguish she had endured because of him. It served to heal them both, now when nerve-endings were still so bruised and raw and this sharing was still so new. He might never be able to bring himself tell her how deeply he regretted hurting her, but for the moment, he could show her.

* * *

Notes:

1) By Request! This is the story of how Nakago and Miaka get together as we see them in the last chapter of Walking A Thin Line. This takes place between chapters 21 & 22 of Walking A Thin Line.

2) Please bear with me here…writing WAFF is not one of my strong points…

3) Actually, I never intended for Nakago and Miaka to end up as anything more than friends… but since we're already here, it's too late to turn back now! Let's see where this takes us, shall we?


	2. A Life Less Ordinary

**Chapter 2: A Life Less Ordinary**

They stood together, silently watching the city lights illuminating the encroaching darkness on the other side of the window pane. The stillness was only broken by the constant patter of the rain falling outside and the rumble of thunder in the distance. When had it started raining again? The change in weather had gone by unnoticed. The whisper-soft kiss Nakago had given her had long since ended, but tenderness had been the last thing she had expected from him…and she was still reeling from the discovery of how fully capable of it he was. How much time had passed? Miaka wasn't sure and didn't really care. All she knew was that sometime within that eternity between her tearful confession and this moment, her life had been irrevocably changed. She molded her body to his by sliding her arms around his waist and standing as close to him as she could, for as long as possible…

Not that he seemed to be in any hurry to pull away.

The peace which blanketed her soul just barely hid a deep, fierce exhilaration. It was something she had not felt for a very long time and she committed the moment to memory, wanting to remember every detail, every feeling…wishing that it would last forever. _Demo…there'll be many other moments like this one, _she thought optimistically, _Many more wonderful memories to be made…_All of which she would hold close to her heart. The warmth of his body lulled her senses, as she rested her head comfortably against his chest. Worn out from her search efforts earlier as well as by the recent overwhelming tide of emotions, she was drowsy and almost asleep; but perfectly content to stay on her feet, leaning into his strength, listening to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

Nicholas looked down at the top of her head, and was once again reminded just how very slight her build was compared to him. Was that why he felt a powerful sense of protectiveness towards her which he'd never felt for any other woman? He thought back to the time before he had gotten to know her; when they had still been enemies, before that whole mess with Tenkou…What were the odds that he would see her as anything other than an annoyance? A million to one. What had been the odds of him actually caring about the Suzaku no Miko as more than a friend? _Astronomical_, _almost beyond the realm of conceivable probability,_ he concluded wryly. But emotions—volatile at best, unreliable at the very least—and life, which could never be counted on to be predictable had intervened…and now, amazingly, he found himself loving her. For the person that she was and who she would surely become; for the fire in her eyes, the forgiveness in her heart…and the courage in her soul. 

Their closeness enabled him to feel each breath she took, and he frowned slightly when he felt her attempting to stifle a yawn. Struggling to keep awake as if she was afraid that he would disappear if she fell asleep, she literally drooped with exhaustion. Nicholas was reasonably certain that a gentle breeze would be enough to push her over if she hadn't been leaning against him. He was reluctant to move, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace they had both found…but she badly needed to rest.

Carefully disengaging himself, he ignored the inexplicable twinge of loss he felt the instant he stepped away from her. She swayed alarmingly on her feet, deprived of the support his body had provided. It was clear that there was no way she was going to be able to make it all the way back home…or stand on her own, for that matter. Arriving at a swift decision, he lifted her before she toppled over and made his way towards the shadowed doorway of the bedroom. Except for a faint squeak of surprise, she did not protest; a true testimony to how tired she really was…she never allowed anyone to carry her without making a fuss, unless she was injured or unconscious. Or both. It occurred to him that he had carried her over the threshold of his apartment and now, he was carrying her to bed…he almost smiled at the stray thought as he carefully set her down on the mattress. Not that there was any chance of her being violated in his bed tonight. As it was, neither of them were in any condition to do anything other than sleep, much less engage in an activity as…strenuous as _THAT_. Furthermore, proper behaviour dictated that he was going to have to spend the night on the couch, even if he did happen to be _in his own house_. He turned to leave the room, but stilled when slender fingers weakly circled around his wrist. 

"Nakago…please stay…onegai?" Her expressive eyes looked huge in the dimness of the room, silently pleading with him. They spoke on her behalf, conveying the words she was too proud to allow past her lips.

Had it been anyone else, he would have suspected an ill-concealed—even clumsy—attempt at seduction. The complex games men and women played were not new to his experience. He was no saint, and had even participated in a few of them himself. Many of the women he had known had honed their seductive skills to a fine art. They could smile, flirt and feign vulnerability, but the Suzaku no Miko—Miaka…did not have such worldly experience nor would she ever play such coy, shallow games. No, one look into her eyes told him that her simple request stemmed from a deep emotional need and that this was extremely important to her although her pride would never let her admit it. She detested the fact that she appeared weak; at the same time, she was terrified of being left alone. She still needed assurance that he would not vanish during the night and leave her behind, but she refused beg or insist that he stay by her side. 

A curiously warm feeling settled around his heart. Proper behaviour and convention be damned. He had never been one to play strictly by the rules anyway. Besides, it would not be the first night they had spent in the same bed…just the first time they would share the same sleeping space _by choice_.

A day of many firsts indeed…

Holding her gaze, he slowly lowered his weight onto the bed and she immediately shifted her body so that she could maintain physical contact with him. Being alone had never bothered him, but tonight, it was strangely pleasing to feel her warm presence, and he finally admitted to himself that he needed this as much as she did. Miaka let out a small sigh of contentment, murmuring his name before letting her eyelids slide shut. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, her breathing settling into a deep, regular pattern.

He took the opportunity to study her, to _really_ look at her in detail, from the silky tangle of wavy russet hair spread across the pillow to her delicate ankles and tiny feet. There were dark smudges under her eyes, as if she had not slept in a long while. Had she suffered from sleeplessness as he had over the past few weeks, tormented by endless nightmares? And there was no denying the fact that she was far thinner than he remembered, so much so that he could practically _see_ every single one of her ribs and vertebrae under the thin material of the shirt. All in all, she was little more than a small bundle of smooth milky-white skin stretched taut over fragile bones. Nicholas swore silently and fluently in four different languages when he realised that every fall she had taken earlier could have fractured an untold number of bones. It had been nothing short of a miracle that she had escaped serious injury…the girl, it seemed, possessed the devil's own luck.

He could have spared her all that pain...but he had been too self-absorbed; too intent on making choices for the both of them, to notice how _she _felt. The truth was bitter in his mind, and he reflexively began to clench his fists before he stopped himself, making a conscious effort to keep his muscles relaxed in case he woke her. _Assume nothing, _he reprimanded himself grimly…he had forsaken the one cardinal rule he had held above all others; the one that made certain never to underestimate an opponent.

Nicholas was well aware that he'dno doubt played a leading role in more than a few of her less pleasant dreams. Their acquaintance had definitely not gotten off on the most auspicious of beginnings, since he would have fatally wounded her if the Suzaku monk had not arrived at Seiryuu's shrine in just the nick of time. And she had known him as Nakago; she had been on the receiving end of his cruelty and witnessed for herself the ruthless, unfeeling sides of his nature. His true colours in all their dark glory. _She sees you for who and what you really are…and it has never frightened her. That was what caught your attention right at the beginning. You have tried your best to intimidate her, but that didn't work either. Even now, she still calls you Nakago and accepts you unconditionally… _a part of his mind whispered smugly. Instead of dwelling on the implications of that statement, he turned his attention to analysing the other aspects of how he felt. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift; sifting through his own thoughts only to encounter something entirely unexpected. With dawning comprehension, he realised that he felt…

Happiness.

And it was genuine, free of ambiguity, of overtones, of questions. It was something that occurred so rarely that he almost did not recognise it for what it was. Lying here, with her body curled so trustingly against him, felt…right. She was his polar opposite in every way, yet her presence seemed to soothe him, keeping the terrible scenes which had been haunting him at bay, banishing the shadows that lurked at the edges of his mind. It meant that she had accomplished the impossible; she of the huge hazel eyes, child-like naïveté and fiery spirit; the little baka whom he'd almost killed more times than he cared to recall. Nicholas did not open his eyes or move, save for the miniscule smile which touched his lips. 

_Who would have guessed?_

The insistent tug of much-needed sleep which had previously eluded him for so long was becoming too strong to resist. Inhaling deeply, he let himself slip easily into the void. But even as his last conscious thought faded away, he was aware of the delicate scent of fresh strawberries following him into the darkness. 

* * *

Miaka came awake slowly, confusion reigning for a second when she wondered where she was and how she had ended up here, before the memory returned in sudden wave. She turned pink when she remembered that this was _his_ bedroom…and she was in _his_ bed. She lay under a thick quilt, his scent surrounding her…it was almost like being in his arms. Burying her face in the luxuriously soft dark-blue sheets, she breathed in the scent that was uniquely his, trying to identify what it reminded her of. _He smells like fresh mint…_her forehead creased slightly in thought, _…and the cool night air after a storm…_

It suited him, she decided. _It's…Nakago._ Surely no other man could hope to duplicate a scent so wonderfully complex in its simplicity?

Abruptly, it occurred to her that she was alone in the large bed. His absence was distressing when she recalled falling asleep beside the security of his warm, solid body. She felt a stab of panic, causing her to bolt upright…and promptly winced at the pain which shot through every nerve; nearly succeeding in pitching herself to the floor. Her bruised joints had stiffened during the night, and it hurt to move. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she forced back the tears that pricked at her eyelids and made herself walk across the bedroom. Stumbling to the door as quickly as she could without falling, she yanked it open and stood in the doorway, her eyes anxiously scanning the spacious area beyond. _Please let him still be here…_A part of her was deathly afraid that she would wake up and find that she had imagined everything from the night before: Nakago's gentle caresses, the way he had kissed her so tenderly…Miaka just didn't think she would be able to survive the reality of it being nothing more than a dream. 

Relief rolled through her, as she stood frozen, staring at him.

Clad in a crisp white long-sleeved shirt similar to the one she had on, and immaculately tailored charcoal-grey business pants, he sat facing her, calmly reading a newspaper. A matching grey suit jacket was draped over the back of the chair along with a silk tie of a colour that was several shades lighter. A plate laden with a large stack of perfectly-made pancakes topped with maple syrup had been set in the centre of the glass tabletop. Apparently oblivious to her presence, he turned a page, the paper rustling.

Miaka gaped. The scene looked so…so unbelievably _normal._

"Are you just going to stand there or would you actually like some breakfast?" he addressed her without looking up. The sudden intrusion of his voice caused her to flinch violently in surprise. Had he been conscious of her presence the entire time? 

It was only when she did not reply immediately, that he lifted his head to regard her, his silver-blue eyes softening slightly when he took in the various scratches and bruises visible on her limbs. She could almost_ feel _Nakago's intent scrutiny moving over the exposed skin of her bare legs, and a dark flush crept up her neck. His gaze was doing strange things to her, causing an unprecedented weak-at-the-knees sensation. Her pulse beat at a frantic pace, thundering in her ears. All of a sudden, she became excruciatingly aware that she was wearing his shirt…and very little else.

Gathering her scattered wits about her, Miaka cautiously approached the table with a brave, overly bright smile pasted on her face. "Ohayo…" she greeted tentatively, dismayed to hear how unsure she sounded. Finding herself at a loss as to what else to say to him, she latched on to the first thing which crossed her mind. "Did you…Did you make those?" _Well done, baka! Do you have any idea how inane that sounds? They're just pancakes, for heaven's sake! _she groaned inwardly. Her worst fears were confirmed when he arched one mocking blonde eyebrow at her words.

The one good thing it accomplished was that it made her forget her nervousness. Her eyes flared a brilliant green-gold as she bristled indignantly, gearing herself up to do battle. In truth, she had missed their frequent verbal sparring matches…despite the fact that she lost most of the time and he always managed to insult her in some way or other. _It's good to talk to him again…_ However, before she could utter a word, the last straw came when—as if on cue—her stomach rumbled loudly. For one awful moment, Miaka thought that she was going to be the first documented case of someone dying from acute embarrassment. _Why does this sort of thing always happen to me? _she wailed mentally, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her.

Nakago chuckled, leading her to realise how much she had missed hearing him laugh (even if she had heard him do it only a handful of times…all of which had been disconcerting to say the least). He put down the newspaper, watching her with hooded eyes as she meekly sank into the chair beside him. 

"I trust you slept well?" There was something deeply intimate about the question, made all the more so by the suggestive way he'd asked it. Combined with the dark sensuality which came so naturally to him, his voice became a lethally seductive weapon. Its effect on her was all too obvious…he knew just how to manipulate her, and he was using the ability mercilessly.

Miaka stared at her hands, tightly clasped together on her lap, "H-Hai…" she managed to whisper, trying her best to stop blushing. It was already bad enough that she was acting like a helpless, about-to-be-seduced heroine in some third-rate romance novel…she supposed she should be thankful that Nakago wasn't the archetypal tall, dark and handsome rogue who would carry her off to Suzaku-knew-where and have his wicked way with her! _Definitely not your average storybook hero, ne? More like tall, blonde and sinfully gorgeous knight in tarnished armour…_a snide voice in her mind piped up with unholy glee. 

It was now safe to assume that the colour of her face was fast approaching the peculiar shade of red which could only be described as 'Beetroot'. Sternly telling herself that the insufferable man was probably deriving a great deal of personal amusement from watching her squirm did not help much, although it did at least enable her to meet his eyes again.

He graced her with a slow smile which informed her that he knew exactly what she was thinking about, but instead of pursuing the matter, he indicated the untouched plate before reaching for the cup of coffee in front of him. "Help yourself."

She felt the heavy tension in the air dissipating slightly and blinked owlishly at him, recognising that she had been granted a momentary reprieve so that she could compose herself. Unfortunately, exactly how long it was going to last was anybody's guess, especially when Nakago was the one who seemed to be pulling all the strings. "Aren't y-you…" she licked her dry lips, "Aren't you going to have any?" she asked hesitantly.

"No." 

Her attention turned to the food sitting innocuously on the table before her. "Are they poisoned?" she said at last, quite proud of herself for the witty retort. The pancakes seemed to beckon to her, tempting her with their delicious aroma. Her lack of appetite over the past few weeks had alarmed Yui, Keisuke and Tetsuya. They had tried bringing her all her favourite foods; steaks, hamburgers, ice-cream…hoping that she would be coaxed into eating. Most of the food had gone to waste, with her only managing to eat a pitiful portion of what she would normally have consumed. Her brother and Yui had even dragged her to see a doctor, trying to find out if there was anything physically wrong with her, but nothing had worked. Now, however, she was ravenous, and could not remember the last time she had eaten…she had not felt hungry for so very long…

"Would I tell you if they were?" 

She glared at him, deciding that the circumstances called for a change of tactics. Miaka wasn't blind; it worried her that Nakago was noticeably leaner than she had ever seen him. Although he was still incredibly handsome, his features seemed sharper; the high, finely-chiselled cheekbones were harsher and more pronounced. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! Is that all you're having? A cup of…" she leaned forward to eye the contents of his cup critically, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "…Steaming Black Death."

"I take it that you don't like coffee," Nakago stated dryly, the suspicious blandness of his tone making her extremely wary. _Damn the man!_ She would have wagered everything she owned that he was laughing at her again in his own inimitable way. 

Miaka folded her arms defensively across her chest, "No, I don't! But that's not the point! It can't be healthy drinking it like that first thing in the morning! It's probably eating away at your stomach-lining or something even as we speak…Ugh!" she shuddered and made a face, "Not to mention that the stuff looks and tastes like tar!"

"Is that right?" he enquired silkily, his eyes taking on a decidedly predatory gleam; leaving Miaka feeling like a lamb being led to the slaughter… 

The next thing she knew, the former Seiryuu seishi was looming over her. Everything happened so quickly that she barely had time to register that he'd moved before he captured her mouth with his own. Instantly melting in response, her lips parted on their own volition, the small movement allowing him unrestricted access as a moan of desire unwittingly escaped from her throat. _It should be illegal for something like this to feel so good…_Miaka was rapidly losing her train of thought, hovering on the brink of becoming overwhelmed by the sensations he was creating. Not only was Nakago overloading her senses, he was doing it without even touching her anywhere else!

Never in all her previous romantic interludes with Tamahome had she ever felt this way. They had both been inexperienced, and there had always been the threat of enemies attacking at any time hanging over their heads. Nevertheless, given the chance to do things over again, she would not choose to change any of it. She would always be grateful for her time with her seishi, because being with Tamahome had taught her how to love…

Tamahome's kisses had left her feeling warm and fulfilled. Even though they had often been a culmination of intense emotions, each had been unfailingly sweet, holding the innocence of first love.

With Nakago, things were completely different. It was akin to plunging head-first into the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim. He took without asking, but gave unparalleled pleasure in return. Like an addictive drug, _his_ kiss left her breathless and wanting more. The skin all over her body felt tight, tingling in direct reaction to his proximity; aching to feel the stroke of his long, elegant fingers…Was he aware of the power he wielded over her? She knew that he was using it as a means of proving a point about something, but she was too distracted by the warm velvet of his tongue skimming expertly along the inner curve of her bottom lip to do any serious analytical thinking on the subject. 

Nakago wasn't merely kissing her; he was making love to her mouth…

They remained like that for a little while longer; enjoying the feel of each other until the need to breathe interfered. With practised ease, he skilfully tapered the kiss off, nudging gently at highly-sensitised flesh one final time before withdrawing. 

His eyes had darkened to a glittering sapphire blue and she found herself trapped in their fathomless depths. "I would say that it's a definite improvement over tar, wouldn't you agree?" he quipped softly, a trace of indulgent masculine amusement in his words. He wasn't exactly smiling, but the faint curve of his mouth spoke volumes for a man as aloof as Nakago. For a minute, Miaka had absolutely no idea as to what he was talking about. Was there some thread of conversation she'd missed somewhere? She felt stupid and slow as she tried to sort through her muddled thoughts. What had they been discussing before…?

Slowly, she raised a trembling hand up to lips that felt tender and swollen. She could still taste him; fresh mint mingled with an indefinable but compelling essence that was uniquely Nakago, and…_Coffee._

It suddenly occurred to her that she had just lost another argument with him. She opened her mouth to let rip with a scathing commentary on his unorthodox methods of persuasion, but her vocal chords chose that exact moment to fail her. Consequently, the only thing that emerged was a strangled squeak of outrage.

He put some space between them by smoothly resuming his seat and crossing his long legs. "Your breakfast," he pointed out nonchalantly, "Is getting cold." The slightly mischievous glimmer in his eyes was still there, making him look younger, less jaded…and dangerously attractive. With a jolt, she realised that this was the very first time she'd seen the playful side of his personality; the part of him which had never been hinted at in all the time they had known each other. Like a chameleon, Nakago appeared to change in front of her with every passing moment; always managing to surprise her, to shock her…How much did she really know about him? Only the merest fraction, it seemed. However, each new revelation allowed a small glimpse beneath the cold, impassive mask which he wore over his true self…For that, Miaka considered herself immensely privileged. 

She could feel him watching as she shakily got to her feet and reached for the plate, hoping to find some refuge in her favourite past-time. Picking up a fork, she slowly began to eat. On taking her first bite, her head snapped up to stare at him in astonishment. The pancakes not only _looked_ good, they_ tasted _good as well. In fact, she would have readily sworn that they were the best she'd ever eaten!

Belatedly, Miaka remembered the food she had sampled in his tent, on that fateful night in Hokkan when she'd gone to him to reclaim� the shinzaho…it was entirely possible that he had cooked all those dishes himself. Who else could have done it? The blonde shogun had been the only person at the Seiryuu encampment; waiting for her to show up. And the food had still been warm when he'd invited her to join him for supper, so it couldn't have been made by anyone else…The sheer enormity of the realisation was mind-boggling. _He could have at least have mentioned something…What else is he keeping up his sleeve? A passion for knitting? A flair for writing love poetry? A wife, eight children, two dogs and a goldfish? _"You can cook," she grated out somewhat accusingly. 

He took a sip of his black coffee, appearing to savour it. "You didn't ask."

Miaka didn't know whether to sigh or to just thump her head against the table. On second thought, that might not be such a good idea…Nakago would probably think she was trying to communicate using Morse code or something. _Dear Suzaku, is there nothing the man CAN'T do? _It was beginning to annoy her that he seemed to be, well…_perfect._ Didn't he have any significant flaws at all? _And what the heck am I finding fault about?� _"Is there anything you're _not_ good at? With the exception of being humble, I mean…but then, with an ego as big as—" she muttered waspishly before she could stop herself, regretting the words the instant they were out. Although meant as a rhetorical question, it could only serve to invite trouble…

She gulped as he pinned her with an intense blue stare, sitting transfixed as he angled his body towards her. Reaching out a hand, he casually rubbed a caress over her mouth with the pad of his index finger.

"None that comes immediately to mind…" he drawled, his voice and touch sending shivers of feminine awareness down her spine, "…I've yet to receive any complaints from members of the opposite sex. Besides, can't you think of anything else I have that's probably as big as my supposed ego?"

The blush returned to Miaka's face with renewed vengeance as her mind swerved off obligingly in the direction which he'd pointed to. Not so long ago, she would have blanched at the very thought of sharing any form of intimacy with _him_, but now…Liquid heat pooled low in her belly as a searing image of them together materialized in her mind. _What's he doing to me…? _Miaka vaguely wondered how long it would be before she spontaneously combusted.

However, even as the thought crossed her mind, Nakago was already drawing back from her and resuming his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. A small part of her wanted to yell at him for corrupting her mind, unfortunately, the rest of her was still too dazed by the sensual power he was capable of exercising over her when it suited him. Tearing her gaze away from him proved to be a supreme test of will, but she forced herself to concentrate on eating her breakfast and doing everything humanly possible to ignore the faint, knowing smirk which played at the corners of his mouth.

_If I didn't love the egotistical baka so much, I'd kick him where it hurts! He'sgoing to be the death of me yet_...she groaned inwardly, _He's killing me, slowly but surely... _

Half an hour later, Miaka sat in the passenger seat of a sleek silver Porsche, quietly simmering with rage as she glowered mutinously at her companion. _Calm down…deep breaths…_she told herself, knowing that she was being unreasonable. After all, it wasn't any fault of his that her own clothes were still damp and that it was hardly appropriate—as he'd so calmly pointed out—for her to make her way across Tokyo by means of public transportation while she was wearing nothing but a man's shirt. People had a tendency to gossip about that sort of thing, especially when the most obvious reason for her current state of dress (or more precisely, _un_dress) appeared to be because she had—… _"Spent the night in someone's bed" _had been his exact words, if memory served her correctly.She ground her teeth together, furious at the way he had spelt it out to her as though she were an ignorant child. 

She watched him surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye, taking in his aristocratic profile. The blonde man beside her drove the powerful sports car with the same indifferent competence which he did everything else, using an economy of movement which somehow still managed to look fluid and graceful. Now, as they approached the building where she lived, she was suddenly wracked with uncertainty. The nagging doubts that had been lurking at the back of her mind resurfaced in full force, throwing her already chaotic emotions into turmoil.

Judging from what she had seen thus far; his apartment, the expensive car, even the clothes he wore…it was painfully obvious that Nakago was a sophisticated player in the corporate world, successful in his own right. To top it off, he was also good-looking and intelligent…He could have almost any woman he wanted, so why would he waste his time on a clumsy, gauche high-school student like her? She recalled the bit of information she had learnt about his past that night in the tavern after he'd saved her from a drunken Tasuki. _He cared for Soi as much as he had been able to care about anybody. _Miaka had always thought the other woman to be beautiful, powerful and graceful…A female holding her own amongst a group of male seishi. In other words, Soi was everything Miaka herself was not. Now that she thought about it, she realised that Nakago and Soi would have made a strikingly handsome couple. _What if…what if I'm not good enough for him?_ What if he was just humouring her because he didn't want to hurt her feelings by rejecting her outright? In any case, he had not even told her that he loved her. At the same time, she fought the apprehension that gnawed at her; dreading the upcoming confrontation with her brother, as well as Yui and Tetsuya. Would they think her fickle and foolish for loving Nakago? Would there be silent recriminations and looks of betrayal in their eyes?

Tortured by the direction her thoughts were continuing to take, her eyes filled with horrified tears and her lips began to tremble.

Nicholas sensed her distress, causing him to reflexively tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He could almost feel her withdrawing into herself, unconsciously huddling against the door and making herself look even smaller than she already was. Being unused to hiding her emotions, her expressive features reflected every thought passing through her mind, so it wasn't difficult to figure out the gist of the problem. _And now to get to the root of it_, he thought grimly.

"What is it?" he asked suddenly, recognising that it was something they had to resolve before they faced the others…and he would drag it out of her, word by word, if he had to. 

"N—Nothing…what m—made you think that—"

He slanted her a quelling, sidelong glance, cutting off her weak objection. "Lying is not one of your strong points, my dear Miko. Your face gives you away," he asserted bluntly. What had triggered this all-consuming doubt?

The morning had started out well enough…He'd had—according to his internal clock—a remarkable seven-and-a-half hours of uninterrupted rest…something of a record for him. He had never managed to sleep for more than three hours at a time, and certainly not in another person's presence. His return to wakefulness had been accompanied by an intense feeling contentment and well-being…Nicholas could not remember the last time he had felt like that, nor did he ever want to let go of it. However, as fascinating as the sensation was, it had been swiftly eclipsed by the realisation that the Suzaku no Miko was lying asleep in his arms. Apparently, either one or both of them had shifted sometime during the course of the night…

As a result, he had awakened to discover that they were spooned tightly together; his body wrapped possessively around hers. Unbelievable as it seemed, it had felt as if she had been made just for him. Two halves of the same puzzle. _A perfect fit_. Miaka's back was snuggled securely against his chest, and the sweet curve of her buttocks had been nestled intimately against the cradle of his hips. It had taken him a few seconds to become conscious of the fact that his hand had somehow slipped under the shirt, and that there was nothing except the bare, silky skin of her belly beneath his fingertips… With considerable bemusement, Nicholas found that he'd been absently stroking the soft flesh, only to stop abruptly when he realised that he was becoming somewhat…aroused. Knowing what would inevitably happen if he stayed in this position, he had reluctantly pulled himself away from her lithe body with every ounce of self-control he could summon; resisting the temptation to touch her, _to make love to her…_and had grudgingly succumbed to the novelty of taking a cold shower first thing in the morning.

Keeping his face carefully expressionless, he ruthlessly pushed the heated memory aside and concentrated on navigating the vehicle through Tokyo rush-hour traffic. Still, he knew that his impatience was beginning to show…he was driving more aggressively than he normally did, and it was all _her _fault. Maybe he should have just let her take the bus…

The silence between them grew, becoming deafening, until Miaka finally gave in to his demand and began speaking rapidly in a low voice that was just barely audible above the sound of the car's engine, "Soi was very pretty, and given your…history with her, I thought that maybe you would want to look for her in this world. She must have been reincarnated too, I mean, I'msureyoumissherand—"

"You're right," he agreed equably, interrupting her rambling monologue, "Soi was a beautiful woman. It would be nice to see her again." Nicholas resolutely ignored the look of heart-wrenching anguish that crossed her delicate features and the pained whimper which she did not quite succeed in holding back. The real reason why she was troubled had become clear to him and he suddenly had the strangest urge to laugh despite the sobriety of the situation. Unfortunately, in her current state of mind, the intrepid priestess of Suzaku wasn't in any condition to handle humour and something told him that any sign of amusement from him would be grossly misinterpreted.

Her fears, valid as they were under the circumstances, were completely unfounded. _But they exist regardless, because you haven't told her how much she means to you, _his mental voice reminded him wryly. Nor could he deny that when they had first met, his initial impression of her was that she was rather ordinary…not even exceptionally pretty. It wasn't until he had gotten to know her; had taken a good, long look at her…that he had realised that she was beautiful. More beautiful than anyone he had ever known; partly because she _didn't_ think so, but mostly because hers was the type of beauty which radiated from within… 

If she only knew how her appearance earlier had affected him; this innocent child-woman, who was so incredibly strong in some ways, yet so fragile in others. Tousled from bed, barefoot, and clad in a shirt which belonged to him, she'd been completely unaware of the desire she had aroused. He had not been able to stop himself from kissing her…had been trying to find an excuse to do so the minute she had seated herself beside him at the table. To be perfectly honest, most of his previous relationships with other women all boiled down to one thing in common: The mutual slaking of a need that had everything to do with sexual pleasure and contained very little in the form of actual emotion. With Miaka, the need was spiritual, emotional, _as well as_ physical, and he wanted her in a way which he had never wanted anyone else.

"You still love her…" There was no accusation in her voice, just a sort of weary resignation. Tears glittered in her eyes, although she was doing her best to hide them from him. He could hear the heartbroken grief in her voice, the sound hurting him in a way he had never thought possible, twisting in his soul like a deadly poison. 

"I loved Soi," he corrected quietly, never taking his eyes off the road, "But I was never in love with her. There is a profound difference to me."

She sat very still as she slowly digested the implications of his statement. He couldn't bring himself to tell her what she so badly needed to hear yet, but Nicholas hoped that she would understand the significance behind those few words and what it had cost him to say them. 

Minutes later, he swung the Porsche neatly into a parking lot outside her apartment building and shut off the engine.

The time had come...and as always, he would play to win.

* * *

The elevator ride seemed to take an eternity…which was not nearly long enough, from Miaka's point of view. She didn't feel ready to meet the others, but it was too late to turn back now. In addition to that, Nakago's presence acted as a deterrent against the urge to run away; she was not about to do anything to jeopardize his opinion of her…wouldn't be able to bear it if she appeared cowardly in his eyes. Standing silently behind her, he made the tiny confines of the elevator seem even smaller…yet, it was comforting to know that he would be by her side when she faced her friends and family.

Lost in thought, she stared blindly up at the numbers on the panel overhead lighting up as she remembered his cryptic statement. 

[_I loved Soi…But I was never in love with her. There is a profound difference to me._

As was often the case when it came to the blonde former Seiryuu seishi, it wasn't so much as what he said that mattered, but rather what he left _unsaid _that was importantNakago wasn't an unemotional man, although somewhere along the line, he had learnt to exert an astounding degree of control over his emotions. Dealing with him had taught her to read between the lines, and that actions sometimes spoke louder than words…Despite his laconic manner, he had succeeded in reassuring her even while he himself was probably trying to adapt to a situation that was still so strange and new. Did he know how much it had meant to her, that he had sensed her fears and had cared enough to try to ease them? It had taken her a while to recognise his words for what they truly were, but once she had, a large portion of her doubts had been put to rest. A rush of warmth infused her being as she suddenly realised how hard it must have been for him to even utter those few deceptively simple words… speaking them aloud would have entailed giving up some of his much-treasured control. 

He had chosen to show her a part of his heart…

And in that moment, Miaka loved him with all of hers.

The elevator doors slid open. She took a deep breath, steeling herself and stepped out, all the while feeling the weight of his gaze on her. The door to her home loomed before her. _I can do this! _she repeated to herself, digging into the damp bundle of clothes she held and extracting her house keys from one of the pockets. The key-ring jingled, the metal gleaming under the fluorescent lights as she moved to fit the key into the lock…

He caught hold of her arm, stopping her. Confused by his actions, her eyes flew up to meet his as he turned her hand over. Nakago held her gaze with an impassive one of his own for a moment, before wordlessly leaning down to brush his lips over the exposed skin on the inside of her wrist, right over her pulse. She shivered helplessly with pleasure at the exquisite sensation; letting out a soft gasp when he flicked the warm tip of his tongue against her sensitive skin in a blatantly sensual gesture. 

Miaka was blushing profusely by the time he released his grip on her arm, feeling unaccountably shy and embarrassed at what he was doing to her in the hallway outside her house when it was very likely that her family and friends waited just on the other side of the door. _What would Onii-chan and Yui say if they saw us like that? _she thought as she valiantly tried to will the heat from her cheeks and gather whatever remained of her composure. _They would probably suffer from heart failure, _a voice at the back of her mind muttered dazedly. However, it wasn't long before she was abruptly snapped back to reality once more when she felt fingers sliding under her chin as he tilted her flushed face upwards...

She blinked several times and stared at him in wonder, her embarrassment forgotten in an instant. 

Nakago was…he was _smiling. _Although nothing more than the faint curving of his mouth, the smile was subtly different from the ones she had seen so far. This one was _genuine_. But the most wonderful thing of all was the way it reached his eyes, turning them into the clear, shimmering blue of the sky on a perfect summer's day, making it easy for her to read the warmth there…

It took her breath away.

All too soon, he lowered his hand, but not before she felt his fingertips stroking a light caress along her jaw. _It's going to be all right…_she realised. There was nothing to be afraid of, nothing to fear. As long as he was with her, everything would be all right. "Arigatou…" she whispered, thanking him for everything he had done for her…and for letting her love him. Then, lifting her head with all the dignity of Suzaku's chosen priestess, she looked up at him with a soft smile of her own, sure that he would understand. 

_Aishiteru…_

Miaka turned the key in the lock and opened the door without hesitation, knowing with absolute certainty that he would be right behind her when she walked through it.

* * *

Notes:

1) Geez...it took me forever to get this one out, thanks to a creative dry spell. My muse went on vacation, and when he finally got back, he wanted to turn this thing hentai...but I didn't. glares at Muse After much debate, we reached a compromise...well, sort of. Anyway, here you have it people! A serious Nakago/Miaka romance that stays safely within the boundaries of PG-13! I realise that it's uncharted territory, but I'm doing it just to see if I can...I love a good challenge. 

2) Stormlight, this one's for you! (You know why...) grins


	3. Counterpoint

**Chapter 3: Counterpoint**

"_True love is like ghosts, which everybody talks about and few have seen_."—François La Rochefoucauld (_Maxim 76_)

Keisuke leapt to his feet the moment he heard the tell-tale sounds of someone at the door. He had remained awake through the night, pacing restlessly, sick with worry, as the storm had raged on outside and there continued to be no word from Miaka. On the couch opposite, Yui and Tetsuya straightened abruptly from their exhausted game of chess, which had long been forced into a state of deadlock without either party really noticing.

The chessboard and all its remaining pieces clattered to the floor unheeded as all three of the room's occupants scrambled towards the main doorway. 

With an exclamation of relief, Keisuke enveloped the slight figure of his sister in a tight hug. "Miaka! Thank God you're all right! Where have you been?"

"Onii-chan…" 

He could feel himself trembling as he held her close, "We were so worried," he muttered into her hair.

"…Let…go…can't…breathe…" a muffled voice croaked from somewhere and a small fist thumped on his chest with increasing agitation.

Finally realising that he was in grave danger of suffocating his own sister, he hurriedly released her and stepped back, taking his first good look at Miaka since she had entered the house. His gaze drifted from her unconventional attire (which appeared to be a man's shirt) and the unmistakable glow of happiness that fairly radiated from her slender body, to the silent, watchful presence standing behind her. Keisuke liked to believe that he was a very open-minded and free-thinking individual, but now, as he found himself confronted with all the damning evidence, he came to the conclusion any reasonable person might be expected to arrive at under the circumstances…

However, before he could say anything, Yui (bless her intelligent soul) intervened, herding Miaka towards the living room. "Did you have an accident? You have bruises everywhere!" If Yui's thoughts mirrored his own in any way, she did a commendable job of not showing it.

_Of course she suspects the same thing! She would have to be deaf, dumb AND blind not to! _Keisuke felt his ire rising with every passing moment. It mattered little that Nicholas looked every inch the respectable business executive, because in contrast, Miaka's debauched appearance did not leave a great deal to the imagination. He would not have been so quick to judge them based on outward appearances alone, had he not sensed a certain almost-tangible…closeness, for lack of a better word, which now existed between the Miaka and the tall, impassive blonde man. As much as he tried to come up with another explanation, Keisuke could only attribute this new development to one thing…

They had been intimate. 

"Ohayo, Yui-chan! I'm fine…no broken bones, I promise! I was being my usual clumsy self and slipped on a wet pavement yesterday…" To Keisuke's ears, Miaka sounded ridiculously cheerful for someone who had taken a painful fall. He closed his eyes, half-listening to her voice as she talked to Yui. He knew that he did not have the right to find fault with her…she was old enough to make her own decisions, and _that_ particular gift had been hers to give. Despite that, he felt that it was his duty as her brother to ensure that the man whom she had bestowed her love on was deserving…He respected Nicholas, but he could not bear to see Miaka hurt again.

"Onii-chan?" He was jolted out of his thoughts by a light tap on his shoulder. Miaka regarded him curiously, a question glowing in her eyes. "Daijoubu? I'm sorry I made you worry about me," she offered apologetically.

"Miaka, I…" he hesitated, struggling to find the appropriate words, "Taka called last night to tell us what happened," Raising his head, he cleared his throat uncomfortably and took a deep breath, "I'm glad you made it home safely…and, uh…I realise that your sex life is none of my business…"

"My _WHAT!_" 

Anxious to get to the point, he spoke rapidly, ignoring the horrified shriek which came from Miaka, "…But as your brother I feel responsible for your welfare." Turning to Nicholas with a hard look of determination, Keisuke forced himself to continue, his voice tight with brotherly outrage. "I take it that you…slept together last night?"

"Yes," Nicholas answered calmly.

"_NO!_" Miaka spluttered, red in the face and furiously glaring daggers at both men. Nakago looked as unflappable as ever, but she caught the silvered glint of muted laughter in his eyes. She silently wished a thousand painful deaths on her supposed 'lover'. With his usual finesse, the former Seiryuu seishi had blithely chosen what was quite obviously the worst possible moment to indulge this playful, newly-uncovered facet of his personality; leaving her with the unenviable task of clearing up the resulting misunderstanding. _I'm really going to HURT him this time…the question is, should I do it before or after I murder my brother? _she pondered at length, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously.

Apparently oblivious to her homicidal thoughts, Nakago lifted a mocking eyebrow at her in an unspoken challenge, daring her to refute his claim. 

Keisuke looked from one person to the other, confused by the simultaneous but conflicting answers he had received from Miaka and Nicholas. _Did they or didn't they do it? _The hair on the back of his hair prickled in alarm as invisible sparks flew. _When had things changed so drastically between these two? Something must have forced both of them to confront their true feelings._ Keisuke wondered if he could convince Miaka to tell him what had really happened. _Because I doubt that Nicholas is ever likely to engage in a male bonding session and spill the beans…_ Somewhere in the distance, he imagined he heard a war drum being sounded. Tension—sexual or otherwise—shimmered in the air between them, thick and palpable. How could he have been so blind not to notice the explosive chemistry underlying their less-than-commonplace relationship? He could hardly believe the magnitude of what he was witnessing. What they had was something that was only supposed to be found within the pages of a romance novel; the kind of thing most people spent their lifetimes searching for. It promised spectacular fireworks, white-hot intensity and barely-contained passion…That is, if they managed to keep from killing each other first.

_Fire and ice. His darkness to her light…_

Keisuke gave himself a mental shake. Where had that melodramatic thought come from?

Suddenly, Miaka let out a low, decidedly unladylike growl and whipped her head around to face him, "It's not what you think, Onii-chan!" She proceeded to scowl fiercely at him, "Nothing happened! We didn't do anything _except _sleep!"

Her brother's forehead wrinkled in a perplexed frown, "But your clothes—"

"—Were soaked in the rain! I would have caught a cold if I had left them on!" 

"Although, I would not have objected if she had slept unclothed…but then, we might not have gotten any rest at all," Nakago interrupted, the corners of his mouth quirking briefly in a small, suggestive smirk which faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Of course, had that been the case, I would have made sure that she would not have been able to even get out of bed…Let alone _walk _in here like she just did," he stated with a solemnity that was unsettling; everything in his manner conveying utter seriousness. The words were ostensibly directed at Keisuke, but as he had been speaking, he'd fixed her with an dark unblinking blue stare that stripped her down to her very soul.

_Oh._

Miaka gulped at the look he was giving her. Nakago had never been one for beating around the proverbial bush, but she had not expected him to be quite so…forward. He _wanted_ herand had as good as informed everyone in the room—even Yui and Tetsuya, who were not even _trying_ to hide that they were eavesdropping—of the fact. The prospect, with all its implications, was both frightening and exciting.

Keisuke was taken aback by the undisguised declaration, but not completely surprised. Oddly enough, he found that he was starting to accept the idea of Nicholas and Miaka being together. _The irony is that Nicholas is probably the only one who can keep her out of trouble. _He knew it was too late to question whether the blonde man's intentions were honourable. Such old-fashioned concerns were pointless and did not really apply in light of everything these two unlikely partners had been through together. _Much too late_, he thought, casting his mind back to the telephone call he had received from Taka the day before, remembering the barely-masked pain which had laced the dark-haired Suzaku seishi's words…[_There is something…special between them, and I wouldn't be a very good friend if I screwed up her one shot at happiness…_ It must have taken a lot for the university freshman to make such an admission, because Taka loved her too. 

He pushed the memory away with a sigh. Miaka had made her choice, and nothing any of them could do or say would change her mind…Or her heart. Since the day they had returned from inside the Book of the Four Gods, Miaka had become a shell of her former self as she sank ever deeper into the pit of depression which she had been slowly digging herself into. Miraculously, after just one night, the shadows which had cast a pall over her were gone. _And to think that the guy whom everyone considers to be a cold-blooded, cynical bastard succeeded where the rest of us have failed. I bet that it's snowing in Hell right now…Her one shot at happiness, huh?_ _Oh well…I guess it's not everyday that you find the person who happens to be your arch-nemesis **and** soulmate rolled into one. _Nicholas had somehow managed to bring the sparkle back into Miaka's eyes, and that was good enough for Keisuke.

With that, he too, made a choice. A tiny smile crept onto his face as Keisuke Yuuki, match-maker extraordinaire and brother to the great Suzaku no Miko, decided that he would stand back…and enjoy the fireworks. 

* * *

Miaka was touched by her brother's concern for her, but Keisuke was really taking things a bit too far. With the exception of the short while she had spent in the bathroom showering and putting on a fresh change of clothes, she had scarcely been allowed any time alone. Nakago had left to go to his office, and much to her dismay, his exit had signalled the beginning of a brutal interrogation session which had lasted until he returned two hours later. However, on the bright side, she had been afforded a chance to talk to Yui. Her best friend had some very painful memories involving Nakago, and Miaka had been afraid that the other girl would see her relationship with blonde Seiryuu seishi as a betrayal of the worst kind: Consorting with the enemy. 

To her surprise, Yui had looked her in the eye, and asked bluntly, "_Do you love him_?"

Miaka had nodded wordlessly, half fearful of the reaction she would get now that everything was out in the open. 

"_I was angry at him for a long time, and I think…I might even have hated him for a while, for what he did to me. But…something tells me that he's different now. I forgave him when I saw how important he had become to you_," the Seiryuu no Miko had said cryptically with a small Mona Lisa-like smile.

Thankfully, Nakago had returned shortly thereafter, his presence effectively putting an end to the seemingly endless string of questions from Keisuke and Tetsuya. 

Now, as she sat beside the former Seiryuu seishi, she mentally fine-tuned the plan she had been working on. Miaka could barely contain the sense of triumph which filled her. Her idea was brilliant. It was the perfect solution; so laughably simple that she could not believe that she hadn't thought of it sooner. _The perfect way to spend some time alone with him…without Onii-chan in the background! _Putting on her best guilelessly innocent expression, she turned to Nakago,"I can't believe that you've been in Tokyo for months and never bothered to go sightseeing!"

Nicholas could feel the invisible vibrations that gave away her excitement and smirked inwardly. _She's anxious for an excuse to get away from them._ Miaka had started out by casually asking him how much of Tokyo he had seen so far and offering to act as a tour guide. _Smooth, my dear Miko…Very smooth, _he thought with growing amusement. He had been reluctant to leave her alone at the mercy of the others earlier, certain that she would be subjected to an in-depth cross-examination about their relationship, but a crisis which had cropped up at work had demanded his immediate attention. After solving the problem, he'd gone on to clear his schedule for the entire week before finally heading back here. Still, the Suzaku no Miko had obviously spent the last two hours productively by plotting an almost fool-proof strategy…he had to admit that her plan sounded harmless enough on the surface, at least to anyone who wasn't acutely tuned in to her every thought and emotion. He wanted to spend time with her, of course. But first, he decided to annoy her. 

He would never grow bored of seeing the way those big hazel eyes flashed gold when she was aggravated…would never tire of the way she responded to him. He knew that she reacted in this fashion only to him…and him alone. Meeting her gaze, he kept his tone of voice pleasantly conversational, "Does the tour include a visit to a geisha? A friend of mine swears that it is an experience not to be missed," he paused deliberately, "Perhaps Tokyo's other…attractions can wait."

That stopped her on her tracks. Nicholas endeavoured to keep a bland mask on his face as Miaka instantly bristled like an indignant kitten at his snide suggestion; silently counting off the seconds till her irritation reached boiling point. She did not disappoint him, and he found himself the recipient of a glare so lethal that any other man would have been castrated on the spot. The corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily when he realised that the little waif was _jealous. _It had not been his original intention to test her like this, but it gave him a sense of satisfaction to know that she was already possessive of him. Aware that it was wrong of him to play with her feelings in this manner, he made a mental note to make it up to her later when they were alone…in a way that would be mutually pleasurable for both of them. Nicholas did not intend to put the tender and very private aspects of his relationship with Miaka on display to be gawked at and scrutinised by a group of over-eager spectators, regardless of the fact that these people were her closest family and friends. The gentle moments they shared when they were together were strictly for her, and no one else. This performance, here and now, was solely for the benefit of their audience.

Keisuke made a strangled sound that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh and the priestess of Seiryuu arched her eyebrows, but did not interfere. Nicholas also distinctly heard someone —presumably Tetsuya—mutter something along the lines of "He has friends?". He ignored all three of them, and concentrated on the russet-haired girl beside him.

Miaka felt her hackles rising at the thought of a graceful woman flirting shamelessly with Nakago over the course of an elaborate tea ceremony. Japanese geishas were well-known all over the world as women who were extensively trained in the art of pleasing men by using their femininity to the greatest advantage. Generally, true geishas did not sell their bodies like most foreigners had been led to believe. They were companions, accomplished conversationalists and musicians who served and entertained their male patrons. Even so, there was no doubt in Miaka's mind that anything even vaguely female (or at least anything that shared the same sexual preference) would try to seduce the handsome former shogun. _Nakago no baka! Calm down, can't lose my temper and punch him in the jaw in front of everyone… _her hand curled into a fist before she became aware of it. She forced herself to unclench her fingers one by one, knowing full well that he was teasing her yet again. _Spend an evening with those simpering, overly made-up women? Over my dead body! This means war! _she thought, vowing not to succumb to childish feelings of petty jealousy. She willed her facial muscles into an artificially sweet smile, "Can't help you there. I don't think I have any of their numbers on my phone's speed-dial," she informed him in a syrupy voice, baring her teeth and daring him to make another unforgivable comment...

"Pity," he said smoothly, unaffected by her beady-eyed gimlet stare that threatened to poke holes in the wall behind him. He smiled slightly, a small wicked twist of his mouth which cranked the temperature in the room up by about five degrees, "Looks like you'll have to be the one to entertain me, Koibito"

The meaning behind his words was unmistakable. Miaka's legs turned to jelly and her nervous system suddenly found itself facing imminent nuclear meltdown. Shakily, she looked away from Nakago's riveting silver-blue gaze, only to find herself faced with the sight of Yui gaping at her chief seishi in speechless shock while Keisuke and Tetsuya both appeared to be in the throes of spontaneous cardiac arrest.

Only then, did she belatedly realise the term Nakago had used. _Koibito…_

He had called her his beloved.

* * *

As luck would have it, they were not the only people interested in visiting Tokyo Tower. She wondered if the fates had conspired to ruin her plans, because it seemed like half of Tokyo's population had turned up with the same idea. _I don't believe this…They don't even look like tourists! It's almost as if everyone within a fifteen mile radius suddenly decided that they just HAD to admire the view of Mount Fuji from the Main Gallery. Today! Of all days! And it's not even the holiday season! _she mentally grumbled, glancing around sceptically.

Miaka was aware of the appreciative stares other women were sending in her direction as they stood at the base of the tower. Regrettably, she was also pretty sure that it wasn't _her_ they were admiring. No big surprise there, of course…the man in question was strikingly handsome, all six feet plus of him. To her relief, however, Nakago did not give any indication that he noticed the amount of female attention he was attracting._ Definitely not someone a girl could miss in a crowd_, _if you like the hunky blonde type, _the beginnings of a frown formed, but she caught herself before it became too obvious, _And if you're the type who doesn't view basic social courtesy as an essential part of someone's personality…_ The galling truth was that Nakago's cool, aloof behaviour towards everyone did not change the way she felt about him. And, as if to add insult to injury, up until recently, she had always thought her preference leaned more towards dark-haired men…

An unexpected pang of guilt hit her. _Tamahome…Taka…I never meant to hurt you. _Sighing inwardly, she pushed the regret back, knowing that she could not handle it at the moment in her current emotional state. Thanks to Nakago and his unique brand of twisted humour, her nerves were still in a tangled, sorry mess after the incident back at the house. Acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary was a lot easier said than done. Although she had sternly berated herself for being silly and mooning over Nakago like a love-sick puppy just because he'd used one small endearment, she was still finding it hard not to blush the moment he so much as looked at her. _Probably planned it that way, the sadistic jerk_. 

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. It's so crowded," she admitted sheepishly, tilting her head up so that she could talk to him properly. "What if we get separated— …Itai! HEY, WATCH IT!" She whirled around to glare briefly at the person who had pushed past her, elbowing her in the ribs in the process.

"Throw a tantrum," he suggested sardonically when she returned her attention to him.

She blinked, not sure that she'd heard him correctly, "Huh?"

Nakago's expression remained impassive as he studied her with what could almost be described as academic interest, "Your chi flares up when you get angry. I'll be able to find you, even in a crowd," he explained dryly with nerve-grating patience.

_Dear Suzaku…he's serious! _By now, Miaka could more or less tell when he was pulling her leg…This most definitely wasn't one of those times. Hazel eyes wide, and she looked wildly around to see whether anyone else had caught his matter-of-fact statement. When she had ascertained they did not seem to be in any immediate danger of being thrown into a mental institution, she hissed, "You do realise that screwing around with chi like that is not normal? Not in this world at any rate! Anyway, since when did—"

Her tirade was abruptly cut off when she felt a strong arm wrapping around her waist, followed quickly by the disorientation of being swiftly swung around. Miaka let out a confused squeak when she found that she was now standing with her back flush against Nakago's hard, muscular frame. The part of her brain that was still functioning gradually deduced that he had dragged her behind one of the many information boards that lined the path leading up to the Tokyo City's best known landmark. The next thing she knew, he was leaning down so that his mouth was level with her ear.

She froze. Even through their clothes, she could feel the heat from his body. The compelling masculine scent which could only be his surrounded her, teasing her senses. Her pulse accelerated so quickly that it left her feeling dizzy…but then, being so close to Nakago seemed to have that effect on her lately. Excitement and anticipation stirred deep inside her, tension coiling into a tight knot of desire…

"We have company," he murmured; his warm breath tickled her ear like an intimate caress, causing her to tremble with a need she could not name. 

"Kuso! Where did they go? I swear I saw them around here a second ago…"

Eventually, through the thundering of her own heartbeat, she was able to distinguish a _very_ familiar voice…the source of which sounded terribly close by, as if the speaker was on other side of the board that was displaying an enlarged map of the area…

_Onii-chan…? He followed us! Shimatta! Tetsuya-san must be here too!_

"I can't believe you two dragged me out here to spy on them! This is a wild goose chase! Trust me, you'll never find them if Nakago is with her," a female voice snapped irritably. _Yui-chan!_ _You go, girl! Give them a piece of your mind!_ Miaka had been friends with Yui Hongo long enough to know that when the other girl used that particular tone of voice, it was a signal to run and dive for cover. 

"It appears that your brother thinks we need a chaperone." She could not see Nakago's expression, but she would have laid odds that he was smirking. The Seiryuu seishi did not release his hold on her; keeping her trapped against him. Did he know what he was doing to her? Being in his arms, with him whispering sensuously to her, made it almost impossible to think. _And why is Onii-chan being such a busybody! _she wailed silently. She loved Keisuke very much, but he was too nosy for his own good! Just this once, she desperately wished that her brother would go away and take a hike off the nearest pier. If she was discovered, especially in her present compromising position, there would be a lot of tough explaining to do. Still, she reasoned, how hard could it be to stay quiet and hidden until the others left?

Unfortunately for her, it soon proved too much to hope for that worst was over…nothing was ever so straightforward or simple when Nakago was around. Evidently deciding it was time to increase the stakes and make things a little more interesting, the man behind her suddenly began a gentle exploration of the soft flesh only scant millimetres from his mouth. Miaka sucked in a convulsive breath when she felt Nakago brushing his lips along the edge of her ear before slowly nuzzling the sensitive place just behind her earlobe. For some strange reason, the phrase 'Out of the frying pan and into the fire' came to mind just before all capacity for rational thought fled. _Oh my god…_Even in her distracted condition, she didn't need anyone to tell her that any sound she made would alert Yui, Tetsuya and Keisuke who were probably less than three feet away. She clamped her teeth together, valiantly swallowing the moan which bubbled up from her throat.

"Come on," Keisuke spoke again after a long pause, blissfully ignorant of the fact that the tables had been turned and the two people he had planned to spy on were presently close enough to overhear his every word, "Maybe they've already gone inside."

At the sound of receding footsteps, Miaka to let out the breath she had been holding, along with a small whimper as Nakago found a particularly responsive spot. By doing this to her in a public place and running the high risk of being seen by curious onlookers, he only served to heighten the illicit thrill which she felt right down to her toes. It was but a taste of what making love with this extraordinary man would be like…She closed her eyes and arched back against him, unable to do anything except lose herself in the sensation.

All too soon, the arm which circled her waist tightened fractionally before Nakago relinquished his grip. To her dismay, her knees nearly gave way, unprepared to support her own weight again. 

"You might want to get that," he prompted wryly, straightening to his full height. The timbre of his voice seemed to have become deeper and more husky.

Dazed, she managed to turn without falling and looked up at him with blank incomprehension until she realised that her own cell phone was emitting a rather loud, insistent beeping. Digging it out of her bag with hands that were not quite steady, she hastily deciphered the words on the tiny display screen. Short and succinct, the sender of the message had not even bothered with a customary greeting. 

[_Will try to keep your brother and Tetsuya here as long as possible while you go elsewhere. You really owe me big time for this. —Yui (P.S. Know you heard us just now. I saw Nakago haul you behind that information board!)_

* * *

"_The smile on your face lets me know that you love me;  
__There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me;  
__The touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever I fall…  
__You say it best, when you say nothing at all_…"

Passing through the gates of Ueno Park, they encountered many couples talking and laughing together. Miaka stared wistfully at the men and women who were so obviously in love, wondering if Nakago would ever be so open with her. _Stop thinking like that! _she chided herself. _You know that he loves you in his own way, even if he doesn't show it like most normal people. Anyway, you can't compare a former shogun to the average guy you would see on the street. No, Nakago is definitely not normal. When he chooses to demonstrate what he feels for you, he does it well…very, very well…_she cleared her throat discreetly, fighting not to blush as she remembered how good it felt when he kissed her. A few months ago, she would never once have guessed that one day, she would be in love with her worst enemy…or that he would return even a fraction of her feelings. She didn't dare imagine how differently things would have turned out without him. He'd done a lot more than protect her…Because of him, she had become a better person. Seeing beyond what was immediately obvious, learning to have faith in herself, understanding that the world was not simply black and white and that people could not simply be judged as good or bad…Nakago had taught her all that. 

They took the southward promenade which branched off from the main pathway. So deeply was she immersed in thought, that she did not see a loose pebble in her path. Predictably, she tripped over it. Even as she felt herself losing her balance, someone grabbed her hand to steady her. Miaka knew the identity of her saviour the moment he touched her…there was a sense of deep familiarity, as if this sort of thing happened all the time…which was true, literally. Besides, she had never met another person who had the kind of quick reflexes Nakago possessed. She smiled up at him thankfully, embarrassed at her own clumsiness, "Gomen! I wasn't watching where I was going."

He held on to her hand an instant longer than was necessary, even after the danger of her falling over had passed, and there was no longer any reason for him continue doing so. "Actually, I'm surprised that you haven't walked into a tree yet," he said with a faint smirk, although this time, his words lacked the cutting, sarcastic undertones she was so accustomed to hearing from him. 

It gave her pause, but she recovered quickly. "Hmph! I bet you'd like to see that, wouldn't you?" she sniffed in mock disdain before offering him a shy, self-conscious grin, feeling light-hearted and happy. "Mou…You would just stand there and make fun of me!"

"Perhaps."

The gleam of amusement changed his irises from their usual glacial ice-blue to a clear cerulean blue…the colour she would forever associate with laughter.

They resumed walking, setting leisurely pace down the quiet tree-lined path. Miaka found her gaze drawn to the hand which had clasped her own so securely only minutes earlier. _So much larger than mine…_she bit her lip, gathering all her courage to do what the perverse imp in her mind was urging. Taking a deep breath, she hesitantly reached towards him, sliding her hand along his until their palms rested together. Tentatively, she laced her fingers through his...

Nakago did not react visibly or comment at the physical contact, but most importantly…he made no attempt to pull away.

Tiny jolts of electricity travelled up her arm, setting her heart beating fast when she felt his strong, elegant fingers slowly curving over her own slender ones and his fingertips grazing her knuckles in an almost unconscious caress. Who would have guessed that something as simple as holding hands could feel so wonderful? Miaka felt closer to him than ever before; this man who could be so harsh and cold one moment, yet mysteriously manage to strike a chord in her soul the next. Tears of intense joy pricked at her eyes and she hurriedly blinked them away, not wanting to appear excessively weepy in front of Nakago. _This is not the time to turn on the water-works! Becoming a soggy, tear-stained mess would be so unsophisticated, and it'll totally ruin the mood…not the best way to impress him, ne? _a voice in her mind lectured. 

A cool breeze blew through the park, triggering a belated realisation. "We missed the cherry blossom season," she whispered a little regretfully, brushing at the wisps of russet hair which had come loose and tucking them back behind her ears. She glanced at the trees growing on either side of the path. It was already early autumn, and there was not a single flower in sight. Miaka would have liked to share the experience of standing amidst the swirling storm of petals with him. Every year, for as long as she could remember, she had made it a point to spend _Hanami_, the flower viewing festival, with those people nearest and dearest to her. _Next year, _she promised silently, _we'll be here when the sakura bloom_…

"Is that such a bad thing?" 

He came to a abrupt stop as he asked the question, causing her to halt her steps as well. Her blonde arch-nemesis regarded her with one of his thoughtful but otherwise unreadable stares…the kind that always succeeded in making her extremely wary. The nervous flutter in her stomach only increased when it occurred to her that they were completely alone in the middle of the park. With a speed which left her wondering if the man was a mind-reader, his hand suddenly locked around hers; not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to ensure that she couldn't back away…or bolt like a frightened rabbit. Miaka tensed uncertainly. Sensing her bewilderment, he raised his free hand to cup her jaw, "There would have been too many people here…"

Nakago absently stroked a soothing thumb over her cheek. She relaxed and instinctively leaned into his touch, wanting more. Intent blue eyes moved over her upturned face, giving her the impression that he was taking note of and analysing every detail. "…And I would not have been able to do this," he finished softly, lowering his mouth onto hers.

Filled with all the tightly-leashed desire she could have hoped for and a possessiveness she had never guessed at, the kiss expressed his feelings for her more eloquently than words ever would; binding her to him as surely as any soul-bond. His presence here by her side showed her that he cared…but it was the feel of his hands and the warmth of his lips that proved to her just how much.

* * *

Notes:

1) I used some lyrics from the song "When You Say Nothing At All" (by Ronan Keating) from the original soundtrack of the movie 'Notting Hill'. Not that I have any particular fondness for the movie or the singer (although it _does _help that he's tall, blonde and blue-eyed Ahem Nevermind…) but I just thought that the words fit.

2) To the best of my knowledge, all the bits about geishas, Ueno Park and Tokyo Tower are accurate. Ueno Park is the most famous park in Tokyo, but I have no idea whether it's located anywhere near Tokyo Tower. For the purposes of this story, let's assume that it does, shall we? You know, artistic license and all that…

Shameless plug: 'Memoirs of a Geisha' written by Arthur Golden is an incredible book, and in my opinion, something which everyone should read at least once.

3) Any plot that this story develops will be entirely accidental. Sweatdrop Just kidding…I do have something in mind, I think. Things will start getting interesting in the next chapter (:coughmore spicycough:), when I actually get around to writing it. 


	4. Complexities Of Life

**Chapter 4: Complexities Of Life**

It was like swimming through warm honey; sweet and golden, lulling her into a pleasantly drugged state of mind. Nevertheless, a small part of her was sharply aware that Nakago was a dangerous man, especially to her…he had the power to hurt her in ways which wouldn't leave any physical scars, but would ultimately tear apart her soul. 

But she was willing take that leap of faith…because _not_ to do so would be unthinkable. Miaka closed her eyes, surrendering the most precious part of herself into his keeping.

Long pleasurable moments later, she felt Nakago carefully guiding the kiss to its gentle conclusion. _Sugoi…_her dazed brain muttered, _It is as if I have waited all my life to be kissed by him like this. _Struggling to catch her breath without being too obvious, she decided that she would need to learn the finer points of the art of kissing. Perhaps it was fortunate that Nakago was quite clearly well-versed in that area. _He would be a good teacher…among other things. I'm sure that there are other areas he's well-endowed—…erm…gifted in? _The thought surfaced unexpectedly in her mind, accompanied by an equally arresting mental image of her erstwhile arch-enemy wearing…_very _little. _Naughty, naughty, Yuuki…thinking about him like that! You're really going gutter-diving, aren't you? _She always seemed to blush like a schoolgirl whenever he was around, and she wished that she had more worldly sophistication, more poise…

…_But you **are** a schoolgirl, _her mental voice interjected matter-of-factly, much to her chagrin.

"Don't." 

The cool command came without warning as she began trying to avoid his gaze in an attempt to hide the wash of colour which she feared would betray her inexperience. Startled, she instinctively stared back up at him. Perceptive silver-blue eyes raked over her appraisingly, holding her captive for one timeless second before he moved away slightly.

"You look like a paralysed chicken," Nakago remarked bluntly, not seeming to care that his comment� was entirely at odds with the tender interlude they had just shared and the romantic atmosphere surrounding them. Miaka lifted her chin defiantly, glaring at him with wounded pride as her temporarily misplaced fiery temper reasserted itself. _I may be in love with the arrogant baka, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let him get away with poking fun at me after nearly kissing me senseless! _She was about to give him a piece of her mind, but he headed her off before she had a chance to say anything.

Lightly brushing over a sensitive spot right at the corner of her mouth with the edge of a finger, he stalled her heated reply. "Do not wish to be anything other than what you are," he advised her gravely, "It does not become you." 

The aloof expression on his handsome, sculpted features melted away for a fraction of a second, countering the sting of the words and their implied meaning. To anyone else, it would have sounded like an insult, but on some level, a part of her understood what he was saying in his usual oblique way and responded with abject relief. It was almost eerie, the way he always seemed to knowthe exact nature of her thoughts…The insecurities she felt; the ways in which she found herself lacking. Miaka automatically relaxed into his touch, letting the tension from earlier drain out of her shoulders…only to find herself having hold back a sigh of longing when he broke the contact between them.

_She is her own worst critic, _Nicholas summed up unerringly as he watched the emotions chase themselves across her face. She had no shortage of bravery, unfortunately, nature had also gifted her with an extremely generous measure of humility to go along with it. He had seen the lingering self-doubt reflected in those incredibly expressive golden-hazel eyes, and he wondered why she would even want to change. Was it to please him? Did she not realise that the qualities that she sought to alter in herself were the very same ones that drew him to her? She was so vastly different from most of the women he knew…the ones who never said what they thought; and never meant what they said. With the Suzaku no Miko, there was no façade, no games, no artifice… 

Just simple honesty, and a beautiful soul.

It was like finally stepping out into the open after spending years in a shuttered room. A breath of fresh air, as it were…and it was something Nicholas had no intention of giving up now that he'd had a taste of its sweetness. Accurately assessing someone's character within the first few minutes of meeting them was something he did well and effortlessly in his line of work…which was why he still could not figure out how on earth it had taken him so long to realise that the tiny russet-haired miko was truly one of a kind. He finally comprehended why she had inspired such unwavering loyalty in her seishi…and why Tamahome's love for her had transcended time and space, life and death. _Do you see what you almost lost because of your own selfish agenda and pessimism? _his internal voice whispered harshly. The alternative possibility of what could have been haunted him. Not more then twenty-four hours ago, he had been planning to leave her—and whatever genuine emotions he'd somehow managed to develop—behind. Everything inside him rebelled against the mere thought of it now, making him feel almost physically ill. 

Something both invisible and intangible tied him irrevocably to her from this point on; a curious mixture of emotions, circumstances and destiny. His own pride played a large part as well, he conceded wryly. He knew that had he really succeeded in leaving her the day before, she would have eventually gone back to Tamahome, and in time, she would have let herself fall in love with the dark-haired seishi all over again…after all, the memory of first love could never be totally forgotten. That meant that the annoyingly heroic, squeaky-clean Suzaku boy would have won…all the while quite unaware of the full extent of how utterly unique Miaka really was. In spite of his control over his emotional responses and all his intellectual rationalisations, Nicholas felt a burning, decidedly _irrational_ flash of something which he correctly identified as jealousy the instant he tried visualizing another male touching the russet-haired Miko; kissing her…

He had never believed himself to be the possessive type, but being with Miaka had the effect of bringing forth some disturbingly primitive instincts in him. _So this is how it feels like on the other side of the fence, _he mused with grim amusement. He was rapidly discovering that love wasn't all about hearts and roses as most people believed. Nor was he being taken over by warm, fuzzy feelings. For him, love seemed to involve intense emotions; not exactly uncomfortable, but unfamiliar enough to disrupt his equilibrium.

The loss of control and stability annoyed him.

Tilting her head to one side as if listening to an inaudible tune, Miaka blinked at him quizzically, somehow able to sense his darkening mood although nothing in his expression had given it away, "Nakago…" she ventured cautiously, "Daijoubu?" 

Nicholas was saved from having to answer when they suddenly caught the smoky drift of laughter, distinctly female in pitch, heading towards them. He could see recognition dawning on the Suzaku no Miko's face, quickly followed by a frown before she almost visibly cringed as if the sound was offensive to her in some way. All this occurred in a little over a second, and he was certain that he would have missed it had he not been looking directly at her. His companion cleared her throat nervously, but covered it up by plastering a bright, beguiling smile on her face, "Uhm…Anyway, let's go to Shinobazu Pond! It's just over there…" 

The look in her eyes was vaguely pleading as she tugged on his wrist. She shuffled her feet slightly in agitation when he made no effort to move. The voices came close enough for him to discern the gist of the conversation, which appeared to revolve around make-up, shopping and…

…_Boys?_ It intrigued him greatly. _Why is she so anxious to avoid a group of schoolgirls? Unless…_

Obviously, she was well acquainted with these girls, but had little fondness for them. Miaka tended to see the best in everyone, and she never actively disliked anything or anyone without an overriding reason. 

"Ashamed of being seen with me, Suzaku no Miko?" he asked, lifting a sardonic eyebrow at her.

The petite Miko glared at him balefully. She really was adorable when she was angry. "This is all your fault," she muttered grumpily under her breath as three very pretty—and revealingly clad—girls around her age came into view. 

All conversation came to an abrupt halt as the girls spotted Miaka, but she did not hold their interest for long. Their eyes widened appreciatively as they caught sight of him. Two of them started giggling as the tallest amongst them approached boldly, her hips swaying in a deliberately seductive rhythm. There was no question that this one was the leader of the pack.

"Konnichiwa, Sayuri." 

Nicholas observed with considerable interest that the priestess sounded as if she were gritting her teeth. Bordering on rude, the terse greeting dripped with enough hostility to set a tree on fire. _And she thinks that I'm unfriendly. _He tactfully kept his thoughts to himself, smirking inwardly that the scene which was unfolding.

"Well hello, Yuuki…fancy meeting you here!" The girl known as Sayuri purred, her gaze scarcely leaving the former Seiryuu seishi even as she briefly addressed Miaka. "Why don't you introduce us to your friend? Then we can all be friends, ne?" she said, directing a coy smile at him and coquettishly tossing her long, unnaturally straight, bleached brown hair over her shoulder. 

_Why on earth would anybody wear blue mascara? _Nicholas was far from impressed, as the vixen batted her thick _blue_ eyelashes. These girls looked as if they were perpetually dressed for a party. Given the fact that it was in the middle of the afternoon, they were all sporting a rather thick—albeit skilfully applied—layer of cosmetics on their faces, he noted with distaste. If he had passed them in the street, he would not have given any of them the time of day. Although Miaka wasn't wearing any make-up at all, save for a touch of her signature strawberry-flavoured lip-gloss (which he had long since kissed off, he allowed himself a fleeting sense of satisfaction), she was far more alluring than any of them, simply because she possessed an aura of sincerity that outshone surface beauty.

He decided that he had seen quite enough. Besides, he had little patience for people who spoke in the affected way this 'Sayuri' did…

A distinctive flare of powerful but thankfully unfocused chi—Heaven help the unsuspecting populace of Tokyo if she ever learned to control it properly—indicated that the Suzaku no Miko was struggling somewhat unsuccessfully to hold on to her temper. Nicholas got the distinct impression that if given half a chance, Miaka would happily wish the other girl into another dimension. Preferably one with no shopping, boys or make-up…and where everyone had to wear a large patchwork quilt and a sack as a uniform. In any case, he could hardly blame her, since he'd forced her into this particular confrontation in the first place. However, before Miaka could let loose with the scathing retort which he knew was hovering on the tip of her tongue, he smoothly interceded. 

"Unfortunately," he drawled, lips curling mockingly, "She can't, because I am not her friend." 

Brassy and confident as she was, even the group's ring-leader took an involuntary step backwards, paling slightly under her artificial tan at the subtle menace behind every word.

Flicking a disinterested glance over all three newcomers, Nicholas' voice remained coldly polite as he told them on no uncertain terms, "…Nor am I ever likely to be yours."

* * *

Miaka chewed on her lower lip, wondering what was going on in the impossibly complex mind of the man strolling nonchalantly beside her. After making his announcement, he had casually placed a hand on the small of her back in a proprietorial gesture—as if he owned her—and deftly propelled her past the other girls, who were openly gaping at both of them. Her legs had felt strangely detached from the rest of her body, but she managed to survive the entire ordeal without embarrassing herself by falling flat on her face. 

Shinobazu Pond—the name was deceptive, it was big enough to be a lake—came into view; the lotuses which grew in the shallows becoming more distinct as they approached. The only thing marring the picturesque view was a sign warning the public against plucking the flowers... 

"Can you believe the _nerve_ of that girl!" she ranted under her breath, talking more to herself than to Nakago. "Why, that little…little _Hussy_! She was trying to steal him out from right under me!" Miaka sensed rather than saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly in singular amusement. Her eyes narrowed. Had he been any other man, he would have been doubled over with laughter. "What?" she snapped, glaring at her obnoxious former enemy sourly.

He met her gaze, his blue eyes the exact colour of the sky, "Assuming you were referring to me, I assure you that I have no intention of being stolen out from under you, my dear little Suzaku no Miko. In fact, I can't think of any place I would rather be, except perhaps on top of you."

"HENTAI!" she hissed, her face promptly turning at least six distinct shades of red until it finally arrived at the hue that rivalled that of a sun-dried tomato.

The blonde former shogun did not retaliate with one of his usual witty ripostes…he merely smirked down at her, which unsettled her even more. His hands were casually shoved into the pockets of his trousers, and he looked both relaxed and altogether far too handsome for her peace of mind. _Not to mention drop-dead sexy, _another part of her mind whispered treacherously. When they had still been at loggerheads with each other, she had become used to his insults and taunts, and would have gleefully launched herself into yet another verbal battle with him. Now, she did not know quite how to handle Nakago when he chose to tease her like that. The most disconcerting thing about it was that she knewthat the man _always_ meant what he said… 

Minutes ticked by, the silence between them festering until she could stand it no longer. "Why did you do that to Sayuri and her friends?" she blurted out suddenly, desperately searching for something to talk about and latching on to the first thing that came to mind. She braced herself for another round of monosyllabic answers and deliberately misleading statements. Sometimes, getting an explanation out of him was like trying to squeeze blood out of a stone. _I think he just enjoys tormenting me, _she snorted silently. _My love life is worse than a low budget soap opera…I swear that someone's having a good giggle at my expense. I must have committed a really heinous crime in my previous life to warrant getting a boyfriend like-…Waitaminute…did I say 'Boyfriend'…?_ It occurred to her that the term was highly inappropriate, especially when used to describe Nakago. The blonde seishi was most definitely _not_ a boy; Nor, as he had so publicly pointed out, were they friends by any stretch of the imagination.

"Why do you dislike them?" 

Just as she had expected._ Isn't it rude to answer a question with another question? _The inscrutable object of her affections obviously wasn't going to make things easy for her. Better to tell him what _he_ wanted to know so that he would tell her what _she_ wanted to know. Miaka heaved a sigh of defeat, "They've said a few unflattering things to me in the past, like how I'm such a greedy, clumsy girl with no manners whatsoever…" She gazed out over the water watching a few couples paddling rented boats across the pond.

"What else?" The demand was softly spoken. Although she was not even looking directly at him, she could almost feel the force of his penetrating stare, and knew that it would be useless trying to deceive to him. 

She lifted her shoulders in what she hoped passed as gallic shrug, "Nothing important. Just some stuff about how my father probably left because he didn't want to have a gluttonous pig for a daughter. They said that he figured that he'd go bankrupt feeding me, so…you can guess the rest." The wind picked up, sending loose leaves fluttering past her. Turning her head to meet his eyes, she smiled tightly, "It's okay, you know…after a while, you get used to it. It doesn't really hurt all that much anymore anyway."

Exactly what he had predicated she would say. _No, it might not hurt that much anymore, but it still causes you pain. _Sayuri and her gang looked like the types who would employ such malicious tactics to hurt people, just for the fun of it. Having drawn a slightly better lot in life this time around, his unique position in the social hierarchy ensured that he never had to put up with such petty taunting. However, cruelty from peers was something he was familiar with, for the teenaged Nakago had put up with it each and every day of his basic training in the Kutou's army. Although Miaka had so casually dismissed it, he sensed that the poisonous barb had hurt her deeply; hitting where she was most vulnerable and playing on her insecurities. 

Instead of replying immediately to her earlier question, he narrowed his focus, centering himself before carefully selecting a suitable subject. Once done, he concentrated his attention on that one point in time, tuning everything else out for a second.

A perfectly formed lotus in full bloom floated from the pond to hang suspended in mid-air in front of her.

There was no mistaking who was responsible for such a feat…the pale iridescent blue shimmer of power surrounding the flower was a dead giveaway. Miaka could see her own hand shaking as she reached out touch the fragrant pink-tinged petals. How was it possible? She anxiously searched his face, looking for Seiryuu's mark, but did not find any. There was no trace of the blue 'Kokoro' symbol anywhere on his forehead. Furthermore, they weren't in the Book of the Four Gods anymore, and he wasn't supposed to have any magical abilities in this world…

"H-How…" she managed to stutter. All the comments that he'd dropped earlier about using chi…it wasn't that she had not believed him, but she had put it down to the little eccentricities that came with being a reincarnated seishi, and a powerful one at that. She'd convinced herself that they were bound to be slightly different from normal people. However, it was difficult telling herself that her imagination was playing a nasty trick on her when the full indication of just how 'eccentric' Nakago really was happened to be staring at her right between the eyes.

Miaka let out a groan of dismay and began wondering where she might obtain some bricks to throw at the sky.

A corner of his mouth quirked faintly in mild amusement, "For you."

* * *

She idly drew abstract designs on the chilled surface of her glass which was coated with a fine film of condensed water droplets. In one hand, she was still clutching the lotus she'd been presented with, after successfully smuggling it out of the park. They were at a quiet outdoor café that she had insisted on stopping at…the repeated growls she had been directing at Nakago had made her thirsty. Of course, both the flower _and _the blonde man were beginning to attract curious looks, but her arch-nemesis did not seem to be the least bit concerned as he sat calmly drinking a cup of black coffee strong enough to melt a plastic spoon._ Why should he be? He's not the one who's gonna have to face the prospect of the whole SCHOOL gossiping about how I'm probably sleeping with him come Monday morning. Not that it's anyone's damned business! _she thought savagely. Pausing every so often to sneak a glance at him over the rim of her glass, Miaka tried to make sense of the man on the other side of the small table.

He never did get around to answering her question…had he?

(_Why did you do that to Sayuri and her friends?)_

(_For you.)_

For her. Had he really meant that? She wished that she knew what he was thinking and hoped that she wasn't reading too much into his actions and ambiguous responses. She wished she hadn't let him throw her off-track. _Illusion and misdirection. You fell for it yet again_, _sucker_…her mental voice commented snidely. Unfortunately, she also knew that it would do her no good to pursue that particular topic of conversation. If the arrogant ex-Seiryuu had any intention of answering her question, he would have done so the first time round. Had she been any other girl, or maybe if _he_ had been any other member of the male species, she would have viewed the gift of the lotus and what he had said to Sayuri to be impossibly sweet gestures, albeit in a twisted sort of way. But he was Nakago; his motives were not always altruistic, and half the time, his methods raised serious questions about the existence (or lack thereof) of a conscience. Much to her self-disgust, it occurred to her that she already accepted him as he was, with or without one. Given that they had been adversaries in the beginning—would probably still be mortal enemies had it not been for Tenkou—by virtue of she being the Suzaku no Miko and he being one of Seiryuu's followers, she often wondered when the differences in their ideals had ceased to bother her…

"We weren't as different as you think, Koibito," he met her gaze squarely when she unwittingly voiced her thoughts aloud; the endearment coming as easily and naturally as if he'd been using it from the moment they had met.

She refused to allow something as simple as that distract her, and retorted in a superior voice, "At least I didn't try to kill _you _and _your friends _at every turn!" _Hah! Let's see how he's going to respond to that one! _It wasn't often that she got the chance to corner him like this, and she gloated with satisfaction, determined to prolong every second of it.

"No, but you did attempt to seduce me in the middle of a desert once. It does imply a disturbing lack of morals."

Miaka promptly choked on her soda as the cold liquid went down the wrong way. She thought she caught the brief smirk which graced Nakago's lips as she gasped and spluttered like a drowning fish. She detested that matter-of-fact, analytical tone whenever he used it on her…he made it sound as if he were discussing a mathematical equation. "You tricked me into that! And you didn't need to bring that up!" She glared at him with as much dignity as one could possibly manage through watery eyes, "It's rude!" 

The blonde man sitting opposite her merely lifted an eyebrow at her predicament, patiently waiting until she had somewhat recovered from her coughing fit. If Miaka didn't know better, she'd swear that he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. _So much for the gallant white knight, you've been day-dreaming about during Furusawa-sensei's class all these years, Yuuki. You would think that after risking life and limb to save the world as we know it, I would at least deserve one complete with shining armour. But nooooo…I had to end up with the evil shogun who wanted to destroy it in the first place! _she thought sullenly, fending off the violent urge to empty the contents of her glass over his head.

"Apart from that entertaining little incident," he paused slightly; his eyes shading to the colour of tampered steel as any traces of previous amusement vanished, "We both served a god, but never once did we fight solely for Seiryuu or Suzaku. We had our own reasons for fighting, some which had nothing to do with gods." The aforementioned former shogun was speaking in his usual level tones, but his deep voice had a way of cutting through the surrounding noise, resonating with something deep within her. 

Nicholas watched as she toyed with a plastic straw for a minute; a part of him noting that a frown now formed a small crease between her brows. He resisted the urge to smooth it away. Strange…he was discovering new aspects to his own personality which he'd never felt the need to acquaint himself with. Tender instincts that had long lain dormant rose uncomfortably close to the surface. 

"We had one more thing in common. We hated each other back then," she said wistfully, her anger long gone. Eyes, he decided, were indeed the windows to the soul. In hers, he could see a multitude of emotions. Love, for each and every one of the Suzaku seishi; Sadness, for the lives so needlessly lost; Regret, for all the time they had wasted fighting …

…And realised just how hard it must have been for her. Her nature was such that it would have been extremely difficult for her to truly despise anyone. It went against every fibre of her being. 

"I never hated you," he said grimly, "Or you would be dead by now." The truth was hard to ignore and even harder to accept. He was not proud of many of his choices in the past, but he was glad that he had made at least one right decision by choosing not to kill her when he'd had the opportunity. That was not to say that he hadn't been sorely tempted however…

"But—"

The slow curve of his mouth was bone-meltingly seductive, "I considered the Suzaku seishi and their miko as merely an inconvenience." 

* * *

The harbour was quiet at this time of day, and they had the small pier all to themselves. They watched the sunset in a sort of companionable silence, reliving memories from another time and place when they had done the same. _Barely even friends then…but look at us now…_Leaning against the wooden guard rails, Miaka inhaled the cool sea breeze and tried not to feel disappointed that the day was drawing to a close. Time had flown by far too quickly, and it was already almost dark. Apart from the run-in with Sayuri and her gang, she had thoroughly enjoyed showing Nakago some of the city's more interesting sights. More than anything, she had taken pleasure from being in his company, despite his aloof disposition and the fact that she had done most of the talking. He wasn't the easiest person to get along with, or to love, but just being with him made her incredibly happy. Fingering the satiny lotus petals, she turned to look up at him, "Eeto…I never did thank you for the flower…" she said shyly, "And arigatou, for humouring me today."

The lengthening shadows lent a dark and mysterious appearance to his usually pale eyes. He touched her jaw in a brief caress. "I was not merely humouring you, Koibito," he stated in his uniquely laconic manner, the deep timbre of his voice wrapping around her like black velvet, warming her from the inside out.

A small wave of pleasure rippled through her body at the way he addressed her, particularly now, when there was no trace of mockery in his words. She didn't think she would ever get used to hearing him call her that. It sounded so achingly intimate that it almost hurt. She wished she had the courage to call him the name her heart already knew him by…

_Anata._

Someday, perhaps, she would be brave enough to try. 

Slurred speech and the clink of bottles in the distance, followed by a burst of drunken laughter brought her sharply out of her musings. 

"Come," Nakago's hand seemed to have closed around her arm like an iron vise, impossible to resist, "I believe it is time we headed back." He did not wait for her reply, and simply pulled her along with him as he made his way back along the wooden jetty. Miaka frowned, what had gotten into him? She wasn't the most intelligent or perceptive person to walk the planet, but the little things tended to add up after a while. And apparently, the cold, brooding former seishi had somehow developed a protective streak a mile wide when it came to her. She knew better than to argue with him when he sensed danger, because ten times out of ten, he proved to be correct.

Unfortunately for them, Nakago's instincts turned out to be a little too accurate for comfort.

A group of men blocked the exit off the pier. They were obviously drunk, and out looking to cause some trouble. She felt Nakago tense slightly, but it seemed the only thing that signalled his heightened alertness. The men were not aware of their presence yet, but there was no way to get off the pier without passing through the loud, rowdy group. Nakago steadily approached them, displaying no hesitation or doubt in his steps. 

"Excuse me," he said evenly, side-stepping the men, with her in tow. To her surprise, the group parted, allowing him to pass. However, just as she was about to heave a sigh of relief, she felt someone roughly grabbing her hand from behind and nearly yanking her arm out of its socket. Miaka was forced to turn around, her skin crawling from the repulsive, unwelcome touch.

"Well, well…what do we have here?" One of the thugs leered back at her as he called out to his friends, "This one's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" The others laughed at his comment. She tried to snatch her hand back, but the man would not let go. Instead, he leaned in close, near enough for her to smell his rank breath and stale, sweaty cologne, making her stomach roll over in the most nauseating manner. She shrank back against Nakago, attempting to put as much distance between herself and the unsavoury character who seemed determined to invade her space. 

"Now, my pretty, how much a night? Hell, never mind. We'll pay you double what he's paying. I'm sure we can show you a better time than this _Gaijin_!" The awful man was coming closer, as if he was intent on kissing her.

"HOW _DARE YOU_—" Miaka snarled at the indecent proposal; incensed at being mistaken for one of _those _girls…

The blonde former general interrupted her before she could finish. "Take your hands off her…if you wish to keep them." Flat and impassive, Nakago spoke in a voice that was deadly soft. He had gone completely still, ready; waiting…

Thick, unpleasantly wet lips parted in a nasty sneer, "Are you threatening me, _Gaijin_?" The thug looked to his friends, who cracked their knuckles loudly to emphasise the point that they outnumbered Nakago, four to one. The odds definitely appeared to be in their favour.

White teeth flashed briefly in a sardonic, but patently humourless smile, "No, I'm giving you a choice." 

Miaka's gaze swung to her beloved. From her position, she could see the implacable set of his jaw, and even though he did not spare her a glance, she managed to make out the flinty, razor-edged gleam in his eyes. For her, the past and present had begun to merge, reminding her that however gentle he was with her, there would always be a part of him which would always remain distant; the part which was detached, calculating and completely, utterly ruthless. Her heart quickened, but not out of fear…she knew he would never hurt her physically now, but she was afraid _for_ him; worried that he would slip back behind those impenetrable walls of his, shutting her out in the process. Suddenly, a terrifying realisation hit her with the force of an epiphany, fully formed and without doubt. _He would end our relationship in a second; walk away and never look back, if he thought he himself posed a threat to me…Oh God_…_what the—…_Miaka felt herself being forcibly shoved to one side, out of harm's way. 

Nicholas stood his ground as the men charged. He did not move until the last second, allowing his attackers to come to him. They all exhibited varying levels of intoxication, the alcohol which they had consumed making them slow and clumsy. Studying their movements with a dispassionate eye, he coldly and efficiently disabled them, one by one. Nothing that would result in anything as permanent as death…there were ways of getting around that small technicality, of course; ways that were interesting and caused a great deal of pain. 

Effortlessly blocking a punch from a man who looked like an aspiring sumo wrestler, he caught the fist before his adversary could withdraw it. With a sharp flick of his own wrist, he twisted the hand he held until he heard the distinct sound of bones cracking…All the while staring into the other man's eyes, watching as surprise turned to agony and fear. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw that the gutsy russet-haired priestess was engaged in a fight of her own. Apparently, one of the drunken louts, thinking that she would be an easy target, had tried to grope her amidst the general confusion. Nicholas was just in time to catch a furious Suzaku no Miko viciously stomping on the person's foot. The hapless individual reflexively let go of her, only to receive a delicate, but very effective knee to a place guaranteed to stop any male creature on its tracks. When angry, Miaka was a force to be reckoned with. 

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he released his punishing grip and slammed the heel of his palm into the thug's face. The fat man keeled over, howling as blood gushed out from his broken nose. _Two down, Two to go. _Sensing someone coming up behind him, he whipped around…a fraction of a second too late. Miaka's shrill scream of warning sounded an instant before the jagged edges of a broken bottle sliced into his skin, leaving long deep cuts across his shoulder and back. The one responsible for the injury stood back, the makeshift weapon held defensively. Grinning idiotically, the enemy appeared inordinately pleased over the small victory. 

_Not for long._

Nicholas took a swift internal inventory, focusing on the damage, and equally quickly dismissing it as a minor concern. Giving no indication that the wound caused any pain, he slowly turned his head to pin his opponent with an expressionless stare, "Enjoy this while you still can," he coldly informed the fool who had dared to attack him, "It will not happen again." 

The hard, slashing silver of his gaze did not waver as he gathered the power necessary, bending reality to his will…

The bottle exploded into a mist of glittering shards. Caught in the blast, the unsuspecting victim screamed and stumbled backwards, bleeding from a thousand tiny wounds, blinded by microscopic slivers of glass in his eyes. In his desperation to get the glass particles out, the man staggered to the side railings, frantically heaving himself over them. A noisy splash echoed in the darkness, only to be drowned out by the constant rush of the wind and the waves. The sound, however, failed to mask the soft, almost inaudible whimper which drew Nicholas' immediate attention, bringing every nerve, every muscle to full alert. He instantly knew the source of it to the depths of his soul…_she _was in danger, and it was something he could not ignore even if he tried. The burning sensation in his shoulder faded into the background as he swiftly scanned the pier. 

Not far away, the brutish man who had first accosted Miaka had managed to trap her against one of the guard rails and his own stocky body, one hand tightly clasped around her throat. Using her as a hostage, the offender started to back away slowly, holding one of Miaka's arms twisted behind her and causing the skin around her mouth to go almost white with agony. She struggled feebly, but there wasn't enough leverage for her to break free. A pained apology glowed in her huge hazel eyes, silently telling him how sorry she was for being careless enough to be caught.

"Stay back, you bastard! Or your little girlfriend gets it!" Sweating profusely, panic had replaced the expression of smug confidence after witnessing what had happened to the rest of the group. Miaka's captor twisted her arm harder to prove his point, making her cry out despite her clenched teeth; a high, thin sob that vibrated through the layer of calm which Nicholas had shrouded himself in. Like acid, it ate away at the paper-thin barrier which lay between the Nicholas of the present, and Seiryuu no Shichiseishi Nakagoof the past. Not that there was a great deal of difference between the two to begin with…just the matter of how serious the injuries he inflicted on his opponent would be. 

Nicholas did not move. There was no need to.

The next instant, Miaka's assailant began to gasp and wheeze, abruptly releasing his grip on her to claw at his own throat with movements which were jerky and increasingly frantic. 

"The punishment shall fit the crime." _For touching her, for hurting her_…

The words were spoken without a trace emotion or inflection. It was a statement of fact…and the passing of a sentence. He regarded this last remaining annoyance with chilling disdain, the temperature of the air around him seeming to drop sharply. Without even an ounce of remorse, Nicholas calmly directed the invisible bands of chi to tighten slowly around the offender's neck, cutting off the air and blood supply long enough to cause unconsciousness and possible brain damage; at the same time making sure that a broad ring of clearly visible bruises would encircle the man's throat in a humiliating collar of defeat.

* * *

Narrowed eyes observed the events on the pier from the shadow of a nearby warehouse, zeroing on two people in particular. The hidden spectator watched with much interest as the tall _Gaijin_ defeated all the other men with seeming ease. As the last opponent was overcome, the observer stiffened, as if in a trance. A low, gutteral growl sounded in the darkness, causing the watcher to jerk back into full awareness and look around, searching for the source…

There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen anywhere. With most people, such an occurance should have caused alarm, but curiously in this instance, it did not.

The blonde man would pay for what he had done. 

Lips parted in a predatory, feral smile. 

Revenge, the observer mused, was a dish best served cold. _All in good time_. 

* * *

"Nakago…" Miaka placed a hand on his arm, as she inspected his injury. They were alone in a quiet street a safe distance from the scene of the fight. She was tense and distressed, but did an admirable job of covering it. "I think this might need stitches."

"I'm fine." 

The bleeding had slowed. Already, he could feel the blood-soaked cloth of his shirt beginning to adhere to the wound like a second skin. The pain had subsided into a dull roar that throbbed in time with the pounding behind his temples, signalling an impending migraine. The cuts on his shoulder and the headache, he could easily ignore. Unfortunately, they weren't the only things he was feeling… 

He reached out, surprising the Suzaku no Miko by lightly touching the marks she had received earlier, which were already beginning to turn blue-black. He felt her shiver in reaction, and trailed a fingertip along the delicate skin to the heart-shaped hollow at base of her throat…then lower still, to the tiny amount of cleavage revealed by a button which had come undone on her blouse. He watched with intense concentration as she took a shuddering breath, noting how the movement lifted her breasts enticingly upwards. They were small, in perfect proportion to the rest of her, and he suspected that the soft weight of each would be just enough to fit snugly into the cup of his palm the same way her body had fitted so perfectly against his the previous night. Besides, he had always considered anything more than a handful to be a waste.

Bringing his mouth to follow the path his finger had traced, he tasted her skin, firing the deep hunger and desire he had come to harbour for her and no one else. He felt the rapid flutter of her pulse under his lips; felt it accelerate even further when he deliberately let the pads of his thumbs graze the gentle swells at the sides of her chest before sliding his hands down to her waist, urging her closer until her hips met his own…until there was no way that she could miss the hard, undeniable evidence of his growing need, nudging heavily against the soft flesh of her abdomen. They were both burning up, the air surrounding them seeming to spark with the eruption of long repressed emotions. Driven by the sensual ache which all but consumed him, he eased a thigh between her legs. The passionate heat radiating from the most intimate part of her beckoned to him, even through several layers of clothing. She clung to him, making a tiny keening sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a mewl. It was a vulnerable plea…of wanting, and of bewilderment.

The cry penetrated the thick sexual haze that threatened to cloud all reason. A whispered promise, heady and erotic, hovered just ahead, well within his grasp…if he chose take it. He closed his eyes for the space of several heartbeats as he regained his bearings, knowing that they could not go any further without putting her at risk. _Contraception, _an annoyingly lucid mental voice lectured, _How nice of you to finally remember THAT_. Negligence was not something he could be accused of when it came to his lovers, and he always took steps to protect both them and himself. Still, the thought that he had been on the verge of taking her without any form of birth control bothered him a great deal less than it should have. Slowly, Nicholas forced himself back from the tempting precipice and clamped down on the carnal demands of his aroused body with grim determination. It was arguably one of the most difficult things he had ever done. Reluctantly disentangling himself from their less than innocent embrace, he silently swore in a variety of different languages for almost losing control. Any later, and he was not sure if he would have been able to stop…In another few minutes, had he not come to his senses, it was very likely that they would have ended up consummating their relationship out here in the open. Miaka deserved so much more than a hurried, meaningless coupling in the dark which was likely to bring her more pain than pleasure, especially since this would have been her first time. It was still too soon, and she wasn't ready. Furthermore, he did not plan to take her so roughly. When the time came for him to claim her as his own, he would see to it that every luxury was accorded to her. A large comfortable bed scattered with white rose petals, and gossamer-fine silk sheets that would slither sensuously over her naked body as he made love to her in the glow of a dozen scented candles until they were both sated…

The muscles in his jaw started to cramp, and he belatedly realised that he'd been gritting his teeth.

"N-Nakago…? I—" She was trembling so badly that she could barely form coherent words. Her eyes were dark and dilated, shimmering with hurt confusion and helpless desire. Not understanding why he had pushed her away, he could see that she was beginning to blame herself, wondering if she'd done something wrong.

"Sumimasen," he said quietly as he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers in apology for the words he would not allow himself to tell her. _Never doubt that I want you, little one._ She was still a virgin, and to do so would only serve to frighten her. "Not here. Not like this." 

He was furious with himself for allowing it to go so far; disgusted that he'd let something as base as lust rule his actions. The little stunt with the lotus earlier had been nothing compared to this. True, he had experienced a small jolt of whatever was altering his body chemistry at this very moment, but it had been insignificant and he'd been able to overlook it, attributing it to the high which came from using his powers. He had refused to believe that things would be exactly the same as they had been when he had been nothing more than a character inside the Shijintenchisho. It all boiled down to one thing: Seiryuu—or whichever god was responsible for this—had a perverted sense of humour.

What had (almost) happened had not been an accident. Regretfully, this situation wasn't new to him. Even when he'd possessed the full extent of his powers, there had been an unexpected dimension to them that he had been careful never to reveal to anyone, not even to Soi. It was a weakness, one which could have been exploited by both enemies and allies if they ever came to know about it. The truth was that any large or extended expenditure of his chi would trigger an unusual chain-reaction… which, by some quirk of nature, was apparently linked to his hormones. For the Nakago of the past, something like as simple as telekinesis and levitation would have required no more than a mere thought, but for him as Nicholas, it had taken a great deal of concentrated effort and energy. In relative terms, it was roughly equivalent to if he'd gotten into a no-holds-barred, knock-down, drag-out fight with _all_ the Suzaku seishi. The chemical cocktail that resulted from the adrenaline flooding his bloodstream was disturbingly similar to the kind generated by sexual arousal…which was why back then, he had needed Soi and her unique…_skills_. During those times, sleeping with her hadn't been so much the matter of raising chi as the need to relieve the urgent sexual tension which had been caused by exercising his seishi abilities. Of course, there had been the long, dark nights when their joining had simply been for pleasure…and the mutual, unspoken need for the touch of another human being. Nicholas closed his mind to the memories, relegating them to a place where they would never be revisited. 

Fortunately, the good news was that this 'Afterburn Syndrome' was not something he couldn't control; it was just that tiding it over was extremely uncomfortable. The problem was also further compounded by the fact that he had been celibate ever since he had left New York eight months ago. Longer actually, because in the months preceding his move to Japan, he'd had neither the time nor the inclination to get involved with anyone outside of a business setting. Now, the troublesome little waif, with her big, soulful hazel eyes and her sweet kisses had effectively ruined him for anyone else. _Hell. _He winced inwardly. It was going to be hell, trying to keep his hands off her, particularly since she had the dubious talent for getting into life-threatening situations that would necessitate the use of his powers. How could one small Miko manage to turn his life upside down? He took shallow, measured breaths of the cool night air, willing the raging fire into submission. 

The bad news was that there was another, more immediate problem brewing.

Once the effects of the chi-induced adrenaline dissipated from his system, it would leave him completely exhausted. At that point, he would be barely conscious and in desperate need of sleep. Although Tokyo was a big, modern city, it had it's share of criminals, not to mention the infamous Yakuza. If he collapsed out here in the open, they would both be easy targets for any attacker. Nicholas glanced at his watch. They could not afford to stand around here any longer.

Fifteen minutes and counting, maybe twenty…if he was lucky. 

* * *

"Nakago? What's wrong?" she asked in alarm. At the moment, Nakago's skin had turned an unhealthy shade of white, even for someone with naturally pale colouring. At first, she had thought that it was due to the loss of blood from his injury, but the external bleeding had already stopped. And he would not have been so very…_passionate_ earlier if he were dying from massive internal haemorrhaging, would he? She blushed right to the roots of her hair, remembering how it felt to have _that_ part of him pressed so insistently up against her stomach. Miaka tried not to squirm with acute embarrassment, excruciatingly aware of the answering rush of warm wetness between her legs. Nothing could have prepared her for the way her body had responded to Nakago's touch. Once, the thought of being physically intimate with the blonde shogun had been the most distasteful of notions, but now, amazingly—wonderfully—it no longer filled her with panic or revulsion, just an exhilarating awareness of her own femininity, and the feeling of being so very _alive_.

However, her immediate concern for him made her determined to push all thoughts of what had occurred between them to the back of her mind. Surely there would be time enough to examine those memories in detail later… 

They reached the lot where he had parked his car earlier in the day. They had walked nearly five blocks, and her unbelievably stubborn former nemesis-turned-almost-lover seemed to be staying upright through sheer force of will. He had not spoken a word to her for the last twenty minutes, and worry over his condition gnawed relentlessly at her. _What's wrong with him?_ _Why won't he tell me? _Her hands curled into fists, restraining herself from grabbing him by the shirt lapels and shaking some sense into him. 

The doors of the Porsche unlocked with a smooth, muted click; but instead of going around to the driver's side like Miaka had expected, he surprised her yet again by getting into the passenger seat. Only then, did he turn his head to look at her, and she stood rooted to the spot. His irises had darkened to a stormy, turbulent grey that was nearly opaque. 

With a composure only Nakago alone would be able to display in the face of such a situation, he calmly instructed her to contact Keisuke on her mobile phone…

…Right before leaning back against the leather seat and closing his eyes.

* * *

Notes:

1) Hello Minna! Sorry it took me so long to post! Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! There were a few theories I was dying to test out on poor Nicholas/Nakago, and I found it both funny as well as challenging when I wrote the part about his sex drive being linked to his seishi powers. No, I have no idea what weed I was smoking when I came up with it...

I tend to think of Nakago as being an intensely sensual character, who is not bound by the same conventional morality that holds back most other people. Taking the theme of him 'using' Soi for her Bochuu Jutsu skills one (very twisted) step further, I decided to give him a very…Ahem…personal weakness which seems to make him more human somehow, and just as fallible as any other guy. Anyway, it does explain why he sleeps with Soi after battles, although not solely for the reason Watase Yuu leads us to believe in the manga…

2) I also decided to crank up the heat a little in this chapter. All the good stuff, like sex and violence! Sweatdrop

3) _So much for the gallant white knight, you've been day-dreaming about during Furusawa-sensei's class all these years, Yuuki._

There's a little in-joke here: Furusawa Tohru is Nakago's seiyuu in the anime

4) There is a very real social issue in this chapter: The fact that many Japanese schoolgirls are turning to prostitution to make a little extra cash after school hours. It is something that Miaka would very likely encounter in modern day Tokyo, especially since she is with a foreigner whom, many would assume, is paying for her 'services'.


	5. Someone To Watch Over Me

**Chapter 5: Someone To Watch Over Me**

"…We don't have time for this, Onii-chan! Just get down here now!" Miaka screeched at her beloved brother over the telephone. Nakago lay very still in the passenger seat, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest so slight that for one awful moment, she had thought that he'd stopped breathing altogether. She tore her gaze away from him, tears of distress already pricking at her eyes, "Please hurry!"

_Don't cry!_ Miaka chastised herself fiercely as she cut the connection with her brother and tucked her mobile phone into her bag with shaking hands. Nakago would insult her again if she cried over the tiniest things. Being with him meant that she would have to be stronger. _Got to prove to him that I'm no longer the naïve, immature cry-baby who first stepped into the Shijintechisho almost three years ago. I haven't come this far and learnt nothing! _Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she blinked several times, determined to force her emotions (and tears) back under control.

Shivering as the chill night wind began to pick up, she pulled her light denim jacket more tightly around her body. There was no point standing out in the cold while waiting for Keisuke to arrive, not to mention that it was not particularly safe to do so.

Therefore, she did the only sensible thing she could think of under the circumstances. She closed the passenger door, trying not to slam it too hard, before hurrying over to the opposite side and sliding into the driver's seat. As an added precaution, she reactivated the central locking system. After sitting quietly for a few moments, Miaka's attention inevitably wandered over to the unmoving blonde man beside her.

Nakago's skin was slowly returning to its normal colour. With only the briefest of hesitations, she ran her fingers over his jaw to his throat, telling herself that she had every right in the world to touch him like this. _After all, it's for his own good that I'm trying to check his pulse, isn't it?_ she told herself, choosing to ignore the jolt of pure tactile pleasure until she finally found what she had been searching for. It beat slowly and steadily against her fingertips. Miaka let out an explosive sigh of relief, slumping back into the plush leather behind her.

The confines of the car provided a bubble of warmth and security against the outside world. _It seems a bit unreal…why do we always seem to end up in weird situations like this? _she wondered ruefully. This was the first time she had ever seen him in such a vulnerable position…and for a while, it had scared the living daylights out of her. It occurred to her, how much she had come to rely on him to get them out of tight spots such as this one. Now that the wild pounding of her heart had slowed, there was nothing else she could do to pass the time except to look at him. Besides, the chance to stare at the arrogant jerk without having to worry about him catching her was an opportunity which did not come along every blue moon.

_How could I have missed it before?_ Actually, a better question would have been, _Where have my eyes been all this time? _Of course she had noticed his good looks from that very first encounter in Kutou—she would've had to be dead or blind not to—but she hadn't devoted much thought to them until her feelings for him had started changing…until she had started seeing him as a man and not just as another friend or ally. _It's hard to resist him, especially when he decides to be nice! No wonder Yui-chan had been so willing to believe him…I think I might have as well, if I had been in her shoes. It's flattering, I suppose, to have someone like Nakago pay so much attention to you…_He was not just merely handsome; he was beautiful in a way that was utterly masculine, she decided, unable to tear her eyes away from him. His features complemented each other so perfectly that she found nothing in Nakago's outward appearance which could possibly be improved upon. To top it all off, he had even been endowed with unfairly long dark blonde eyelashes that any woman would envy. And his lips…Miaka's hand lifted, as if possessed by a will of its own, to trace the firm, sensual line of his mouth…

The sudden loud tapping at the window brought her out of her trance-like state. How long had she been sitting there, content to simply touch him? She reddened when she saw her brother's face peering in through the window.

"Onii-chan!" She unlocked the doors and literally threw herself into Keisuke's arms, almost choking the life out of him as she hugged him. Nearby, Yui and Tetsuya were just getting out of the latter's BMW. "Yui! Tetsuya-kun! Thank god you're here!"

"What the hell happened?" Keisuke demanded brusquely, his eyes sweeping first over Miaka, and then over the fair-haired man a few feet away. _Must have been pretty bad, for Nicholas to pass out like that. _Listening as his sister gave a quick—and what he suspected to be a heavily edited—summary of the events leading to their present predicament, Keisuke barely managed to contain a groan of resignation. Trust Miaka and her new boyfriend to end up in trouble on their first 'date'. _One thing to be said though…Life's never going to be dull for those two! _He hoped that this wasn't a prelude to what the future held in store for them. Surely that much excitement couldn't be healthy…

Then, he saw the streaks of dried blood on Miaka's clothes.

She noticed the alarm on his face and looked down at herself for the first time since her ordeal. Forcing a wry smile which faltered slightly at the edges, she waved away his concern. "Don't worry, none of it is mine," she said softly, her expressive eyes slanting a worried glance at the blonde former Seiryuu seishi. "We'll need to clean up the stubborn baka's wound once we get home…" she muttered more to herself than to Keisuke.

It was Yui who finally took charge; the forceful side of her personality coming to the forefront at the prospect of losing yet another night of much-needed sleep. "In that case, we had better get him back to the house as soon as possible. Nicholas deliberately got into the passenger seat so that someone else could drive. Keisuke-san will have to do the honours. Miaka, you'll have to come with Tetsuya and myself since there's only space for two people in Nicholas' car," the teenaged girl stated firmly as she turned briskly, pulling her unresisting best friend along.

Keisuke raised his eyebrows at Tetsuya, "When did she become so bossy?" he whispered conspiratorially. The Seiryuu no Miko had issued orders like a drill sergeant and was obviously expecting to be obeyed without question.

The other man shrugged, his expression unreadable behind his dark glasses, "Beats me…"

* * *

He gave a low, appreciative whistle as he ran his hands over the steering wheel. After inserting the key into the ignition, he cocked his head briefly to study the person in the other seat. _Well, Nicholas, you really are some piece of work. _They knew so little about this _Gaijin _who had so suddenly become such a large part of their lives. Other then the fact that he was American, and was obviously good at his chosen vocation…what was his background? _Heck, we don't even know his last name! _Keisuke decided that he would make it his business to find out.

The engine of the low-slung sports car came to life with a well-tuned purr. _Nice…Some people just have everything going for them. Who wouldn't envy what the lucky bastard has? _Nicholas' vehicle of choice was impressive, to say the least. Like its owner, the precision-engineered machine exuded an indefinable aura that was simultaneously compelling and unapproachable.

"Do endeavour not to get both of us killed…and try not to damage my car while you're at it." The words were clearly-spoken and impassive, yet Miaka's former tormentor still looked, for all intents and purposes, to be dead to the world.

Keisuke snorted at the snide remark. The insult was wrapped around a slightly lesser insult, but then again, he had not expected any less from the leader of the Seiryuu shichiseishi. "Thank you for your vote of confidence on my driving skills. I can't guarantee anything…Hope you're insured," he retorted sarcastically. There were definitely times when he just could not understand what Miaka saw in the blonde jerk. The man was thoroughly infuriating! _Speaking of Miaka_…

"You really do want her badly, don't you?" he suddenly asked bluntly, only to be greeted with silence. Emboldened by the fact that the ex-shogun was presently unable to break his arm or walk out on him, he pressed his advantage. "I know you can hear me, Nicholas. Don't try to pretend otherwise," Keisuke drawled.

Nicholas did not bother opening his eyes. He was not in the mood to play a game of Twenty Questions with the Suzaku no Miko's over-protective brother and the action just wasn't worth the effort. "To what do I owe this stunning flash of insight?"

"Just answer the damned question," the brown-haired man snapped.

"Yes." Brief, succinct and to-the-point. It told Keisuke what he wanted to know, no more, no less. It also helped to conserve the precious energy Nicholas could ill afford to waste at this point in time.

Keisuke's hands tightened into fists, "She wants you as much as you want her. I see it in her eyes every time she looks at you. You already have her heart… it's only a matter of time before she gives herself completely to you, body and soul. I won't presume to know what's best for her. That's for her to decide. But I also don't want to see her unhappy…" There was a thread of steel running through the words.

"Spare me the lecture."

He ignored the cold, deadly-soft interruption. "Don't hurt her, Nicholas," Keisuke stated in a deceptively mild voice, "If you do, you _will_ come to regret it."

It could be taken as a veiled warning or a piece of sage advice, depending on one's point of view.

The lack of response did not faze him, nor did it surprise him. Deciding to leave it at that, Yuuki Keisuke grinned widely. It was a good thing that Miaka was not around to witness it… or she would have been understandably alarmed at the maniac gleam in his eyes. _This is going to be fun, _he mused as he purposely floored the accelerator; gunning the engine and causing the tyres to squeal.

The Porsche shot forward into the night.

_I think I'm going to enjoy this after all_…

* * *

Miaka gulped at the sight of the full-grown man in her bed. Never in a hundred lifetimes had she dared to picture _Nakago_ here, in her private domain. It had taken both Keisuke's and Tetsuya's combined efforts to half-drag, half-carry him up to the apartment. They had grumbled about it every step of the way. Something about undeserving people who were heavier than they looked and no good deed ever going unpunished… she hadn't really been listening. _Lucky thing Okaa-san is in Osaka visiting Grandma…we'd never have been able to smuggle Nakago past her! _Thanking the gods for little favours, she turned her attention back to the difficulty at hand…

"Well…what are you waiting for?" Yui appeared in the doorway without warning.

Jolted out of her thoughts, Miaka jumped like a scalded cat. She bumped into the edge of the mattress, almost lost her balance and nearly ended up sprawled on top of Nakago. "Yui-chan! Don't _do_ that!" she wheezed, glaring at the other girl, one hand pressed against her chest over her racing heart.

Yui set down the assortment of first aid supplies she had been carrying and blinked guilelessly…a little _too _innocently. "You need to take off his shirt so we can have a look at those cuts on his back, Miaka," she pointed out with a suspiciously straight face.

The Suzaku no Miko made a noise that sounded remarkably like a strangled whine, "But Yui…can't you do that?" she pleaded, pouting childishly. "After all you're his Miko, and—"

"Hold it right there! Don't even _think_ about it! He's _your _boyfriend, _you_ take it off!" The Seiryuu no Miko looked at her russet-haired counterpart slyly, "Besides, I'm sure there's nothing you haven't seen before." Yui wondered why her friend was procrastinating…even she had to admit, her primary seishi _was_ rather easy on the eyes. She could appreciate a handsome man as much as the next warm-blooded female, but she wasn't attracted to Nakago in the least…and had never been, she realised. The truth was, in the Shijintenchisho, she had been so desperately insecure that she'd deceived herself into thinking that he had cared for her in any way other than a convenient vessel with which to summon a god. Still, she'd never seen the blonde shogun anything less than fully dressed and had always been curious as to what lay beneath the armour…

She picked up a tube of antiseptic cream, and made a big production of inspecting the near microscopic wording printed on the side of the box, deliberately leaving the other miko to her own devices.

"Fine!" Miaka huffed, turning reluctantly to stare down at her bed's occupant. She did not want Yui to see how nervous she was at the prospect of taking off Nakago's clothing. _For crying out loud, baka! It's only his shirt, not his underwear! _Blushing furiously, she bent over him, undoing the buttons of his shirt as quickly as she could while virtuously fending off any inappropriate thoughts about Nakago or his underwear…assuming he wore any, of course. _I heard that! _the voice of her conscience boomed unmercifully in her mind. Before long, a broad chest and hard, well-defined abdominal muscles were revealed. The man in front of her possessed the lithe musculature of a panther. Like a dangerous predator, his body was built for speed, grace and power. Confronted with the smooth expense of skin, her eyes were drawn to the fine, nearly invisible trail of soft blonde hair which began just under the dip of his navel and disappeared suggestively into the waistband of his trousers, riding low on lean hips…

Armed with disinfectant and cotton swabs, Yui stepped up to the bedside and raised a delicately arched eyebrow, "Hmmm…Not bad. He's definitely a natural blonde…It's a pity we only have to take off his shirt. Ne, Miaka?" she commented teasingly, trying to ease the tension.

_Not ba…NOT BAD? NATURAL BLONDE?! _"Yui no Hentai! Don't look!" Miaka wailed, clapping her hands over the other girl's eyes, completely forgetting that she'd tried to get Yui to undress him at first.

"Ano, Miaka…I don't think I can help you disinfect his wound blindfolded, but if you insist, I can always _feel_ my way around a bit…" Yui said patiently with laughter in her voice, amused at the comical possessiveness the Suzaku no Miko displayed towards her former sworn enemy. The joy which shone from Miaka's eyes seemed to spill over, making the people around her happy as well. _And I will try to keep it that way._ _Don't stop smiling, Miaka-chan…I think the world would be a much sadder place if you do. _Once, she had been jealous of the fact that her best friend had found someone to love…that bitterness had almost destroyed her. She had hurt Miaka, and almost broken their lifelong friendship. Even though Miaka had forgiven her, Yui wasn't sure if she could forgive herself. Never again would she begrudge another person their happiness.

Come to think of it, she _was_ genuinely glad for both of them. Odd, how you find love in the place where you least expected, even when you weren't even looking..._That's true, at least._

There was already someone who was waiting for her.

The knowledge brought a tinge of colour to her normally pale cheeks…

…And the last of the unseen scars on Yui Hongo's heart finally began to heal.

* * *

Tetsuya scrolled down the list of options displayed on the computer screen and clicked on one. He read intently for a few minutes before slowly leaning back against the chair and looking at Keisuke, who was sitting on a nearby couch and tensely clutching a slim white name-card like a lifeline…A card which had just happened to be in the glove compartment of the car Keisuke had snooped around in.

_Nicholas A. Raine, Consultant (Strategic Business) _was printed in neat black letters on one side.

"He's loaded," Tetsuya pronounced ominously.

"What?!" Keisuke looked confused, the words not registering.

"As in rich! There are a few articles about him on the internet…and a handful of pictures accompanying them. It's Blondie all right." Tetsuya took off his ever-present aviator sunglasses and stared at his friend, "Keisuke, your sister's boyfriend is the heir to a multi-million dollar fortune…His family's one of the most influential in the U.S. business scene. Think venture capitalism, high-tech industries, and very, very large sums of money…" There was a hushed note of awe in his voice. He turned back to the screen and began reading again, "Here's the interesting stuff though…it would seem that dear Nicholas here is something of a non-conformist. He left the family business a few years ago to pursue his own career. He's successful in his own right, of course…Says here that he's an extremely private person, often declining to appear in the public eye, so little is known about his personal life…"

The door to the study opened to admit Yui, who eyed them curiously. Neither man seemed to notice. The Seiryuu no Miko did not interrupt, instead choosing to seat herself beside Keisuke. She could tell that whatever they were discussing was serious.

"Miaka is involved with a man who just might be a millionaire…?" Miaka's brother sounded faint.

Tetsuya was in the process of pulling up yet another on-line article, "Yep, richer than Croesus and one of New York's most eligible bachelors, apparently," he snorted derisively, having never quite gotten over his lingering dislike of the blonde former shogun. _After what he did to Yui…_He swivelled around on the chair to face Keisuke and Yui, "At least now we know for sure that Mr. Seemingly Perfect isn't married with kids and a wife stashed away somewhere," he commented sourly.

Meanwhile, Keisuke did not seem to notice Tetsuya's less than complimentary assessment and appeared to be following the tangent of his own thoughts, "That would explain the car…"

Yui narrowed her eyes, unable to contain herself any longer, "Sorry, but I don't see what his car has got to do with anything!" she said with a frown.

They looked at her as if she had suddenly grown a third arm. It was Keisuke who spoke first, "Actually, it confirms what we've just read about him. That car," he paused almost reverently, "Is a Porsche Carrera GT."

_Huh?_ They were losing her there…had she missed something important somewhere in the course of the conversation? She failed to see why they were so excited over a piece of metal. An expensive piece of metal, no doubt, but still…To her, it was simply a form of transportation; a means to get quickly from Point A to Point B. _Boys and their toys. I'll never understand their fascination with gadgets and machinery. _"So?" A note of impatience crept into her voice, "What's so great about that? Lots of other people drive cars like that."

"Not this one. It's a prototype. Not for sale on the mass market, which means that you can't simply buy it, assuming you had the money. You need _a lot_ of connections to even get close to owning one. I think it's illegal to drive one of these without a special permit…" Tetsuya explained softly. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his knees. "Look, Minna, I hate to be the devil's advocate here, but getting back to the point…We all know the reason why Miaka is with him. She's in love with him," he said somberly. "The real question is, why is _he_ with her? How do we know that he's not just playing around with her?"

"He's not playing with her!" Keisuke insisted stoutly. "Don't ask how I know, I just do. He's serious about her, okay?" He folded his arms, mouth set into a thin, stubborn line.

Yui could not help but notice how much brother and sister were alike in that respect. When defending something they believed in, they would get identical looks on their faces, dig in their heels and refuse to budge an inch.

Running a hand through his hair, Tetsuya sighed, "I wish I shared your optimism…I doubt he's even told her that he loves her."

"Maybe that's because he really means it this time."

_Uh oh…did I say that aloud? _Yui fought the urge to kick herself. Repeatedly. She had been thinking back to the time when Nakago had kissed _her,_…when he had manipulated _her_ with his false words of love and loyalty. She remembered every detail vividly as if it had been yesterday. His lips had been cool and dry. The kiss had been…_pleasant_, and very little else, except maybe impersonal. Had she been in the right frame of mind then, she would have realised instantly how very _wrong_ it had felt. A wave of old guilt prompted her to slam the mental lid on that particular Pandora's Box and focus on a single revelation. _Nakago and Nicholas…Different in so many ways, yet the same in so many others. _Nicholas would know, better than anyone else, how misleading words could be. Like Nakago of past, Nicholas probably rarely voiced what he truly felt, and when he finally did, he would never choose such a fallible method of conveying his emotions. _If he really does love her, he won't tell her. He'll show her…which is exactly what he has been doing! _Yui found herself fighting down a grin despite everything. In his own cold, stoic manner, Nicholas was quite successfully romancing Miaka right under their noses, if the dreamy, glazed look in her best friend's eyes was any indication. The most important thing was, Miaka did not seem to have any problems believing in the sincerity of his love.

With both men watching speechlessly, she shrugged nonchalantly as if there was nothing unusual about what she had said. Graceful as a dancer, the girl who was the current Seiryuu no Miko stood up and smoothed down her skirt before walking to the door. Just as it seemed that she wasn't going to say anything more after her astonishing statement, Yui turned, a small enigmatic smile on her face.

"Trust me."

The door closed softly behind her.

* * *

Impressions of light and shadows came first, flitting across his consciousness. Swiftly followed by colours and shapes snapping into sharp focus.

Nicholas surfaced smoothly from the inky nothingness which surrounded him, into complete wakefulness. As a soldier, it had been a necessity, and made the difference between life and death. That had been a lifetime ago, but old habits died hard, and the ability to emerge from a sound sleep to full alertness instantaneously was one of them. He did not move, carefully taking stock of his present situation. Three things were immediately apparent to him. Firstly, he was alive and could feel all his extremities, which meant that Keisuke hadn't managed to crash his car. It was immensely gratifying to wake up in one piece. Secondly, he was lying on a narrow bed which was definitely not his own, and lastly, he was naked from the waist up.

_Interesting._

Turning his head slowly, he took in his surroundings. The walls and ceiling, he noticed, were painted a cheerful lemon yellow, so unlike the stark white of his own apartment. In addition to the bed, the room contained a clattered desk with books piled haphazardly on it; a small bedside cabinet upon which stood a whimsical alarm clock shaped like a spotted cow; and finally a chair on which a tiny russet-haired girl sat, her petite frame contorted into an awkward position. She was fast asleep. Something deep inside him melted a little…Judging from her dishevelled appearance, he was willing to bet that she had been up for most of the night.

Someone, presumably her, had tended to his wound. He quietly swung his legs to the floor and stood up, feeling the twinge of pain from the injury as well as the slight pull of the surgical adhesive tape that held a gauze dressing in place. Had she been the one to undress him as well? He wondered, smirking faintly at the thought. After a moment's consideration, he gently lifted her off the chair and lay her on the mattress so she would be able to sleep more comfortably. Miaka mumbled something incoherent and immediately snuggled into the spot which was still warm from his body. Bathed in the early morning light streaming in through the half-drawn curtains, she looked uncommonly beautiful. Recent memories of lying in her bed assailed him. The texture of the soft cotton sheets on his bare skin, the fresh strawberry-tinted scent which seemed to have been woven into the fabric…

The only thing missing had been the feel of her delicate body curled against his...

It took all his willpower not to get in beside her and pull her close.

_Hell._ He gritted his teeth, mouth compressing into a hard line. Unfortunately, it was not the only part of him which had hardened, and his mind obligingly supplied several other suitable profanities to describe the situation.

His breath escaped in a barely audible hiss. Not only had he been out of practice when exercising his power during last night's debacle, he'd been careless enough to over-exert. Nicholas knew he could not totally blame his almost instinctive reaction to her on the residual effects of the chi afterburn. Ruthlessly clamping down on the incipient desire, he forced himself to think logically. As tempted as he might be to simply kiss her awake and begin making love to her, it was not a good idea to embark on an intimate exploration of the Suzaku no Miko's body while Keisuke, Tetsuya and probably Yui were somewhere in the house…and therefore quite likely to barge into the room at any time. In addition, he had no intention of allowing his actions to be dictated by his…hormones.

The shirt he had loaned her earlier—the one he had been wearing was probably a lost cause—was draped over the back of the chair. Carefully slipping it on so as not to dislodge the gauze on his back, he systematically buttoned the shirt and rolled back the cuffs. The routine action gave him something to focus on, and helped to distract him from the sleeping siren just a few feet away. Although he did not have any problems with walking around shirtless while indoors, he did not think Tetsuya, or Keisuke, for that matter, would appreciate it. He smiled grimly…At least he would not have to borrow any clothes from Miaka's brother. __

Seating himself on the chair, he gradually allowed himself to relax. For the first time in a long while, he felt at peace and found himself not just planning for the future, but also looking forward to it. There would be time later for them to discover every aspect of each other. An entire lifetime's worth…For now, he would live in the moment; savouring the quiet of the morning and drinking in the presence of the girl who had made it all possible. _Rest well, little one. _He would watch over her the same way she had watched over him.

* * *

"You really didn't have to bring me here…fast food or _ramen_ would have been fine," she looked down at her plain white peasant blouse and a simple skirt, "I don't think I'm dressed for this place…people are staring!" Her cheeks coloured with self-conscious embarrassment.

Nicholas tried to remember the last time he had been in the company of someone who still possessed the ability to blush. He could not come up with a single name. All the other women he'd known before meeting Miaka again in this world had been polished and confident. The parting of ways with each one of them had been cool, amicable and relatively painless. Miaka, on the other hand, was in a class of her own. She was honest to a fault, had a violent streak when provoked and was sometimes frighteningly naive…light-years away from anyone in his past experience. Privately, he thought that the outfit she was wearing flattered her, bringing out the natural red highlights in her hair and framing the creamy skin of her throat and shoulders. The other customers were looking at her, but not for the reason she believed. The intoxicating combination of her vibrant love of life and her virginal innocence practically radiated off her, drawing the attention of every male present. _Trust her to be the only female not able to tell the difference…_he mused humourlessly, sweeping a cold, quelling glance around the room.

They were in one of Japan's most exclusive restaurants. He had come here quite often after moving to Tokyo. The exclusivity of the restaurant mattered little to him, and the only reason he patronised the place was because the food wasgood, justifying the rather hefty price tag. Besides, he could well afford it. As for why he had brought Miaka here tonight…he wanted to court her properly, as a gentleman should. Heaven knew, she deserved that much from him. And because his own honour demanded it of him. Furthermore, the elegance of the surroundings and the discreet service ensured that they were unlikely to be accosted by street thugs.

"Your attire is none of their concern," he stated dismissively and indicated the menu she held in her hands. "Feel free to order anything you want."

Miaka took one look at the prices listed in the menu and her mouth went dry. Some of the items cost more than her entire month's allowance! Although she knew that Nakago would pay for their meal, she felt uncomfortable letting him spend so extravagantly on her. Anyhow, it was obscene for food to cost so much! _What, do the chickens and cows live in condominiums or something? _"Ano…Nakago, I don't think—" she began uncertainly, searching for the words to tell him so without appearing ungrateful or tactless.

He seemed to know what she was trying to say, and the corners of his mouth curved slightly. "The food and service is good." His silver-blue eyes gleamed with silent amusement, "We shall go to a place of your choosing next time, if you like."

She beamed at him, glad that he understood. Her heart swelled with all the love she felt for him as she realised what he was unobtrusively trying to do. Nakago was showing her a glimpse of the world he was used to and wanted her to relax and enjoy this experience in fine dining. She deeply appreciated his efforts. As he had said, there would be other opportunities to show him _her _world. After all, she had lived in Tokyo all her life, and knew where to find some of the best _shabu-shabu_ and _yakitori _around…

* * *

Eyes half-closed with pleasure, she finished the last of her dessert, a sinful confection of rich chocolate mousse, caramelised pears, raspberries and whipped hazelnut cream. Try as she might, she couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty over the countless number of calories it had probably contained. Nakago, as always, was right. The food had been excellent, from the appetisers all the way to the last course. However, unlike her, he had chosen to forgo dessert in favour of a cup of coffee and had seemed content to simply watch her eating.

Dubbing her mouth with a napkin, she realised that her former arch-nemesis was looking at her with an intensity which was unnerving. The dark sapphire blue of his irises were rimmed in silver, and filled with a fierce heat she had never dreamed he could possess. Before her mind could fully grasp what was happening, she felt the soft caress of his long fingers at the corner of her mouth and along her bottom lip. A soft husky sound emerged from her throat. She ached to reach out and touch him; wanted…_needed_ to feel more…

"They say that chocolate is an aphrodisiac, as are raspberries," he murmured, his voice low and gently teasing.

Driven by an impulse and a burst of courage she did not know she had, she wrapped her hand around his wrist just has he was about to pull back and slowly kissed his fingertips. _He has beautiful hands…_Miaka thought vaguely as she brushed her lips across the centre of his palm, glorying in the texture of his skin. She heard him take a deep breath and felt the pulse in his wrist quicken. Feminine satisfaction raced through her at the knowledge that she could affect him the same way he affected her. The opposite of love wasn't hate; it was indifference…and Nakago's reactions, even with his formidable self-control, were anything but indifferent. __

_The little minx! _Where had she learned to do _that_? Nicholas studied her closely, as the Suzaku no Miko unknowingly revealed a surprisingly sensuous side of her nature. He was aware of his body beginning to respond to what she was doing, as well as the curious stares they were starting to get from other people. He would have to put a stop to the seductive game he'd initiated before it got out of hand. _Pun fully intended, _his mental voice injected with no small amount of irony.

However, before he could do so, he felt her freeze abruptly.

She stared with something akin to horror at his hand. Without really having to think about it, she had used her thumb to stroke the skin on the inside of his wrist and had felt the raised ridge of pink scar tissue which slashed right across the vital arteries. Her grip tightened, "What happened? How did you get this?!" she whispered as she lightly traced the scar, her face clouded with concern. The cut had been deep. And it would have hurt immensely. The idea of attempted suicide occurred to her, but she rejected it almost immediately. _He would never choose such an option, no matter what the circumstances_.

"It's nothing. Forget it." Nakago withdrew his arm and turned to signal for the bill. He did not meet her gaze.

Suddenly, a scene surfaced in her mind unbidden, like frames from a disjointed movie. It was as if she were viewing it from another person's perspective. She recognised the time and place instantly. Five months ago, they had been in the Universe of The Four Gods…and she had died there, in Kutou, so that he could be released from Seiryuu's hold. The visions—memories?—flew past, and she saw herself plunge the dagger into her own flesh; saw the look on Nakago's face as he used the very same dagger to slit his wrist in a last-ditch attempt to save her life…

He had loved her then. For a single fleeting moment, his emotions had shown starkly on his proud profile. The realisation shook her to the core and brought tears of anguish to her eyes. She had caused him so much pain…He was always getting injured because of her. Last night had just been the latest in the long list of instances.

"G-Gomen nasai," she got up jerkily, taking his silence to mean that he was angry with her for ruining what had been, up to a few seconds ago, an almost perfect evening. _Does he regret…? _The thought was too much to bear, and she turned and fled out of the nearest exit before he could see her cry.

From the far corner of the room, a young man watched her go, a strange feeling twisting in his chest. When he had first seen the odd pair walk into the restaurant, it had been as if the entire world had stood still. For a moment, he had been someone else, and he had been seeing them through another's eyes. Flashes of memories from a long forgotten past…That girl had been in every single one of them. But how was that possible?

* * *

The rooftop garden was lit in a way that was meant to be romantic. Unfortunately, Miaka was in no condition to appreciate the atmosphere. _I'm such an idiot! Nakago must be furious that I ran out on him like that…so much for trying to act more mature. I really blew it this time! _She huddled on a stone bench, a shivering ball of dejected misery. The night air felt cold against her wet face, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Nakago would come looking for her soon. By then, hopefully, she would have managed to pull herself together. He would never have to know that she'd been weeping. _I'll just give him some lame excuse, apologize, and plead insanity. Yeah riiiight…_She shook her head at her own foolish thoughts.

She started violently and leapt to her feet when a familiar, much-missed voice said softly from the shadows, "Whoever he is…he isn't worth your tears."

Her heart jammed in her throat as she spun round to face him.

A man with long dark hair bound into a low ponytail and burning golden eyes stood before her, looking just as he had so long ago in the Shichitenchisho…The man who had once offered her everything that he'd had…his heart, his throne, his empire.

Miaka started to tremble, and could only stare in mute disbelief at the person whom she had thought was lost to her forever. He had been so dear to her…she had grieved deeply when he had died. With his last breath, he'd made her a promise. A vow, that he would somehow find his way back to her no matter where they were and who they happened to be.

The stars glittered clearly and brightly overhead when they were usually almost invisible. It was fitting, that on a night like this one, their paths would cross once again…

* * *

Notes:

1) GAAAAAAAAAH!!! Gomen Nasai! Gomen Nasai!! I'm extremely sorry that I made people wait so long for this chapter. Yeah, I know some of you figured I got sucked into a black hole or something. Well, the answer is the 'or something'…Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this installment. It was great to be able to finally post it! And yes, I am being my evil self, ending with a cliff-hanger like that.

2) Miaka is becoming more comfortable with the physical aspect of her relationship with Nakago. She touches him freely now, and also wants him to touch her. I wanted to reflect their relationship as being more mature, more 'adult' than the puppy love she had for Tamahome in the past. It doesn't make what she shared with Tamahome any less important…because it really had been true love _at the time_. Even now, Miaka does not love Tamahome/Taka any less, it's just that her love for him has changed.

3) _Shabu-Shabu_ is a sort of Japanese steamboat (meat and vegetables are cooked in boiling soup at the dinner table). _Yakitori_ is the Japanese equivalent of a chicken kebab, where pieces of chicken are grilled on a wooden skewer.

4) Er…I think you guys have already guessed who the mysterious newcomer is. He's the seishi who bears the Chinese character for 'star' on the side of his neck…


	6. Faith Of The Heart

**Chapter 6 : Faith Of The Heart**

Miaka did the only thing she was capable of doing. She fainted.

Or more precisely, she _tried_ to faint, but she was to be denied the dramatic opportunity of sinking to the floor in an elegant heap. Too late, she saw the dark-haired man in front of her lunging forward when her knees gave way under her, but to her surprise, someone caught her from behind before the stranger could even reach her. She found herself supported against the comforting warmth of a hard, muscular chest. His presence was something she would have recognised even blindfolded in pitch darkness. Still, if she were to just open her eyes, she was reasonably certain that she would see that familiar, annoyingly arrogant smirk. As if guessing her intentions, the obnoxious Seiryuu warrior tapped her cheek none too gently several times; robbing her of the luxury of passing out in his arms.

"I…Hotohori…" she croaked, the sound coming out hoarse and brittle. Prying her eyelids open, she forced herself to look up at her saviour.

"Really, _Koibito_…you should refrain from calling another man's name while you are lying in my arms," Nakago said dryly, lips thinning in a darkly amused smile which did not reach his eyes. Effortlessly setting her back on her feet, he retained a hand at the base of her spine in a casual declaration of ownership. "Hello, Saihitei," he greeted somewhat mockingly, finally sparing the other man a glance.

Nerves fraying with tension, Miaka nervously put some distance between herself and Nakago by taking a step towards the man who stood stiffly nearby, looking at both of them in confusion. "Hotohori…?" she addressed him shakily. The heavy imperial robes had been replaced by a white long-sleeved shirt worn under a stylish black designer jacket and left untucked over what looked like supple black leather trousers. _Does he remember the past and who he used to be?_ she wondered feverishly, praying that her hopes wouldn't be dashed.It had to be him…no one else had those unique molten gold eyes and perfect, almost-feminine features. She reached out to touch him, as if to convince herself that he was real…

The moment her hand made contact with his arm, a jolt of something which felt like electricity lanced through his body. Andy was hit by a barrage of memories, pouring over him as if a floodgate in his mind had opened. He saw himself in a life far removed from all that he had been taught to believe, and he _remembered_…

_Hotohori_…It was a name he had not heard for a long time. Barely preventing himself from staggering, he blinked dazedly as his entire mental perspective shifted and two different worlds merged quite abruptly into one. He was Hotohori…and he was also Andy. The common thread that bound the two together, was the Suzaku no Miko. At last, he understood, what all his dreams had been trying to tell him. "Mi…aka…?" he stared at the girl—no, _woman_ who was his miko, battling all the strong emotions that were welling up inside him. She had grown more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

He had searched an eternity for her…would have searched forever until he found her.

"Dear Suzaku…" he whispered, as he enveloped her in a tight hug, "I can't believe I've finally found you again, Miaka!" It seemed like his entire universe had settled silently into place, the missing pieces suddenly appearing as if they had been there all along.

And he realised that for the first time in his life, he felt _whole. _

Miaka stood frozen, as the reincarnation of her seishi wrapped his arms around her in a heartfelt embrace. A moment later, she was returning his hug just as fiercely as the shock was replaced by elation. _He remembers! _her mind repeated over and over again like a broken record as her long-lost friend swung her around in exuberant circles. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you again!" Caught between laughter and tears, she rested her cheek against his shoulder, "Oh Hotohori, I've missed you so much…"

"It has been a pleasure, Saihitei, but if you continue holding her like that, I will have to kill you again."

They sprung apart like two guilty children at the unexpected intrusion. She bit her lower lip, feeling a hot blush already crawling up her cheeks. For a few seconds, she had almost forgotten that Nakago was standing just behind her. Another disturbing thought occurred to her, belatedly triggered by Nakago's lazily drawled words. Even after all he had done to help her, the fact still remained that it had been Kutou's shogun who had cold-bloodedly killed Hotohori, and if the emperor truly did remember his past life, then…

_Oh no…_She groaned inwardly, torn between her feelings for either man. Nakago had her heart. Hotohori had her everlasting friendship. They _both_ had her loyalty.

The former Suzaku seishi stared at the tall blonde man behind Miaka for a long moment, as through sizing up an opponent. "Nakago," he said slowly, his handsome features tightening with dislike. "I should have known that you'd be the one to make her cry!" _How could I forget the face of my murderer? I told Miaka that I had forgiven Nakago during that desperate battle against Tenkou's evil creation, but…_ It had not been a lie, neither had it been the whole truth. He knew that they were no longer enemies, and he was grateful to the man for protecting Miaka, but how could he shake the mistrust he harboured, or let go of the deep-seated, bitter hatred for someone who had once made their lives a living hell? Perhaps he would not have felt quite so hostile towards the Seiryuu seishi if it had not been so obvious that Nakago had seduced the girl _Hotohori _had loved dearly. Andy balled his hands into fists. The way the blonde man had touched her…the devious bastard had been blatantly taunting him with the fact that the relationship was more than merely platonic.

It was the kind of relationship Konan's emperor would have given anything for, Andy thought bitterly. And where in Suzaku's name was Tamahome? Why was Miaka with Nakago, of all people, instead of her beloved Tamahome?

The priestess hastened to defuse the situation before it could explode in her face, "Hotohori, It's all a misunderstanding! It wasn't his fault—"

"How nice of you to remember my name, _Your Majesty_. I thank you for your high opinion of me," Nicholas cut off the Suzaku no Miko's explanation with a blandly polite remark heavily laced with razor-sharp sarcasm.

"Stop it!" Miaka said forcefully, stepping between them and glaring reproachfully at the one who had so rudely interrupted her. _They're not going to start duelling right here, are they? _Her gaze softened as she turned to her own seishi, "Hotohori…er…maybe we could meet up again? I have so much to tell you…"

Firmly turning her back on Nakago, she resolutely ignored the feel of the shogun's cold stare boring into the vulnerable spot on her neck.

"Tell you what, give me your address and I'll pick you up for lunch tomorrow!" At her enthusiastic nod, he searched through his pockets, producing a pen and a slip of paper on which she wrote her address and contact number. Andy thought he heard the impeccably dressed executive behind his miko give a soft, cultured snort of disgust. Pointedly, ignoring the brooding yet strangely protective presence of his rival, Suzaku swordsman flashed a charming grin as his Miko returned both pen and paper to him. The dazzling smile he received in reply was like a benediction, reminding him exactly why he had fallen in love with her in the first place…

Tossing a defiant look over her shoulder at Nakago, the petite girl threw her arms around Andy again in a fleeting hug, "See you tomorrow!" she whispered before spinning on her heel and going after her dubious companion, who was already making his way towards the exit.

Looking down at the precious piece of paper he held in his hand, the former emperor carefully committed the information on it to memory, until he knew it by heart. Now that he had found her, he was not going to risk losing her again. Lifting his head, he stared at the stars scattered across the sky. It was a beautiful night…A perfect night for a new beginning. Fame brought with it wealth and a jet-setting lifestyle, but the flip side was far from glamorous. In an industry where superficial friendships were the norm, he often felt isolated from everyone else. But tonight, for the first time ever since he had started his career, he did not feel quite so lonely anymore.

* * *

They made the entire journey in silence. Miaka clasped her hands together in her lap so tightly that she risked cutting off the blood circulation to her fingers entirely. As they drew up in front her house, she knew that she had to somehow find a way to salvage the huge mess she had created. The task of making the opening gambit naturally fell on her, as Nakago did not appear to be inclined to start a conversation. "You're angry," she stated in a low voice, preferring to look everywhere except his face.

"I have no reason to be." There was no hint of any emotion, negative or otherwise in his impassive voice. To her dismay, he did not offer her anything more. Instead, he seemed to be devoting an inordinate amount of concentration to parallel parking when she _knew _for a fact that he could have done it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back.

_Kuso…this is going to be hard! Nakago no Baka, it's a lousy time for you to start acting like a block of ice! _Still, she figured that she owed him an apology. "I…I am sorry for running out on you like that. When I saw that horrible scar on your wrist and realised how much trouble I've caused you…You were hurt so many times because of me." _You don't get to choose who you want to fall in love with…you just fall, whether you like it or not. _The thought that Nakago might feel as if he had been forced to love her, because the fates had willed it, nauseated her. "Do you regret…us?" she asked painfully, quite sure that if Nakago had a choice, he'd never have chosen someone like her. _Never in a million years…_

When he remained silent, the feeling of dread increased with every passing second. _Good going, Yuuki…he probably despises you now. Why couldn't you have left things well alone? Bet he's tired of dealing with all your little insecurities and having to coddle you all the time, _she thought sadly, her heart slowly breaking. She knew that if she pushed him too far, his emotional shutters would come down and he would cut himself off from her with same the calm, clinical detachment which he did everything else. She stared straight ahead blindly, determined to be brave by not giving in to the tears for once. _I will win him back if I have to…whatever it takes! _she vowed.

Miaka jerked in surprise when she suddenly felt his fingers capturing her chin, gently forcing her to face him. His eyes gleamed pure silver in the moonlight, but they lacked the coldness she had expected. "While it is true that you are probably the last person I would have chosen," he conceded, choosing his words carefully but not attempting to disguise the brutal truth in them, "I do not regret what we have together."

Perhaps it was the closest he would ever come to admitting aloud that he loved her…

And then, in the next moment, she realised that it didn't matter…because suddenly, he was there, _proving_ it to her in the most delightful manner. She sat glued to the spot like a statue, not daring to even breathe as he tilted his head, delicately brushing his mouth over her bottom lip. The soft pink flesh, already swollen from her nervous nibbling, tingled under his ministrations. She could feel the warmth of his breath, stroking against her abused lip like the merest flutter of a butterfly's wings. The seductive artistry of his touch made her insides quiver with an emotion she could not identify, causing a strange deliciously wicked feeling to coil low in her tummy. His simple actions almost undid her… and it wasn't even a proper kiss.

"Nakago…please…don't stop…" _Shimatta! Did I just say that? _Low and husky, she was vaguely surprised to find that she was indeed capable of sounding sexy. Her fists curled reflexively into his shirt, trying her best to pull him closer.

He wore a half-smirk on his handsome face as he gently pried her fingers open one by one, and eased her hands away from his clothing. Stroking the sensitive skin of her palms in small, teasing circular motions, he watched her reactions, noting with some surprise that her hands were apparently erogenous zones…Nicholas mentally filed that interesting bit of information away for future reference. "Consider this punishment, Koibito…" his deep, smooth voice was held the faintest edge of amusement, "For earlier, and for that little display with Saihitei."

* * *

Andy felt as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date. He had agonised over what to wear and where to take her. Looking back on how he had acted for the entire morning, he groaned. Almost every available surface in his hotel room was strewn with clothes, as he had tried on and discarded one outfit after another in his indecision. Moreover, his manager would blow a gasket when he found out that Andy was out on his own without bodyguards. A stickler for schedules and proper procedure, Sigmund was still the closest thing he had to a friend, given that they had fired each other about a dozen times. Despite Sigmund's tendency to overreact, the man was a damned good manager. _He'll get over it, _he thought grimly. However, for the chance to see Miaka again…it was well worth the furious lecture he would receive when he got back.

Checking the apartment number again, he draw in a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.

The door swung open, and he found himself confronted with a man with brown hair. For one awful moment, he thought he had the wrong address. The stranger gave him a thorough once-over and he saw recognition dawn in the other man's eyes. "Oh my god! You're Andy Wong! That singer from China here to promote your new album!" The man in the doorway stepped back and ushered him into the apartment before sticking out a hand, "I'm Keisuke, Miaka's brother. She told me that she'd found another of her seishi, but she failed to mention that you were…erm…so famous. You _are_ Hotohori, right?"

"Yes," he said with some relief, shaking Keisuke's hand. Inexplicably, he felt himself colouring at the mention of his pop idol status.

Keisuke inclined his head towards a door down a short hallway. "You're early…she's not ready yet. You might as well have a seat. Geez, I can't believe one of the Suzaku seishi is now a famous pop star! Suzaku sure has a weird sense of humour." He gestured Andy to the couch, "Out of curiosity…how much do you remember of the past?"

The Suzaku seishi was puzzled at the odd question, "Everything. When I met Miaka again, all the memories came back to me. It felt as if I'd been blindsided by a truck…But I remember everything as if I had lived that life yesterday. Why?"

Miaka's brother shook his head, "That's odd…Tamahome only remembers bits and pieces of his past life."

"Tamahome?" Andy questioned urgently, "He's here in Tokyo?" He sensed that Keisuke could tell him what he wanted to know, about his former comrade…and about Nakago. Especially about Nakago. However, before he could pump Keisuke for information, the door to Miaka's room opened and she appeared to be simultaneously trying to hop, pull on her socks and pack her bag at the same time.

"Hotohori! Gomen! Sorry I kept you waiting!" She glanced suspiciously at her brother, "Has Keisuke been giving you a hard time?"

_No, but I'm having a hard time looking at you and stopping myself from taking you in my arms,_ Andy almost blurted out. Instead, he shook his head, smiled and offered his arm to her like an old-fashioned gentleman. _Play it smooth, _he silently congratulated himself for not melting into a puddle at her feet.

His miko giggled at the gesture and linked her arm through his. With a polite nod to her brother, he led her out of the apartment.

Keisuke watched from the window as the pop star ushered Miaka into a waiting limousine. Apparently, the man always did things in style, whatever the incarnation. He had a good idea how Hotohori felt about the Suzaku no Miko…it had been written for all to see in the Book of the Four Gods. And unless he was mistaken, the former emperor's feelings for Miaka had not changed one bit. _The book's descriptions did not do Hotohori justice though_, he decided at length. Simply put, the long-haired Suzaku seishi was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. Golden-eyed and fine-featured, the only things that saved Hotohori (now known as 'Andy' to thousands of screaming fans) from looking like a woman was the chiselled jawline and the broad, _flat _chest. Keisuke had no doubt as to where Miaka's heart lay, but here was someone who could probably give Nicholas a serious run for his money, both in terms of looks and wealth.

Not that either of those things mattered to Miaka, but still…

Somehow, Keisuke couldn't shake the feeling that a love triangle of soap opera-like proportions was about to form, much like an accident waiting to happen. _Oh Miaka-chan…why do these things happen to you? _Sighing, he picked up the telephone and dialled the number of a friend who deserved to know of Hotohori's reappearance.

As he waited for the person on the other end of the line to pick up, he wondered idly if Nicholas was capable of feeling jealousy…

_

* * *

_

"You're not going to tell me not to meet up with Hotohori?" she turned to stare up at him in surprise, her face the very picture of innocence.

_"No," he said shortly, the impassive mask firmly in place, giving her no clue as to what was going on in his extremely complex mind. _

_"Why?" Although she was reasonably certain that he was not plotting murder in cold blood, she would not put it past him to be planning something equally unacceptable. She knew his style…he was a veritable sociopath. While there was no question of him doing anything illegal, Nakago seemed to take great pleasure in disregarding the rules when it came to moral and ethical issues. It still rankled her that he could be so damned civilised while he was at it. Often, she found herself wondering if he did it simply because he knew that she would disapprove. _

_He lifted a cynical blonde eyebrow at her question, "Because," he said with nerve-grating patience, making her feel like the biggest fool on earth for even asking, "You would go anyway."_

Thinking back to the conversation that had taken place outside the Yuuki residence the previous night when Nakago had accompanied her to the door, she felt a shiver go through her. For someone who would prefer to discard his own emotions altogether, he definitely seemed to have the talent of reading hers with uncanny accuracy. The arrogant jerk had been right, of course. Nothing would have prevented her from seeing Hotohori again, and the former Seiryuu general had understood her well enough to perceive that before she had realised it for herself. _Did you expect Nakago to suddenly throw a jealous fit or something? _a tiny voice in her mind enquired sarcastically. _Well, no…_she mentally replied, _But—_

Miaka snapped back to the present when she realised that Hotohori was speaking to her.

"So…Miaka, what happened after Tenkou was defeated?" he asked, his golden eyes looking directly into hers. If he suspected that she had not been paying attention, he gave no indication.

They were seated at a table in a quaint little Italian restaurant, the kind that had cosy alcoves and tall bottles of herb infused olive oil on the tables. During the ride over, she had bombarded him with questions about his life. He had revealed that his grandmother had been Japanese; and although Andy was nowhere near as fluent in the language as Nakago was, they found that they were still able to converse quite easily. He told her about his musical career and how much he enjoyed writing his own songs…what it was like, to stand in an arena filled with thousands of people and yet feel completely alone. He'd made her laugh, with descriptions of his manager's hysterical outbursts and his run-ins with crazed fangirls who threw everything from candy to underwear at him during his concerts in Hong Kong and in Beijing. In turn, she had told him about her school, her friends, her family; just about everything, Andy noticed, except Tamahome and Nakago.

She toyed with her seafood pasta for a moment and sighed, "It's a long story, Hotohori…" A weary expression appeared on her pretty face, making her seem older than she really was. "And you might not like some parts of it," she finished softly.

He leaned forward on his elbows, "Nevertheless, I would like to know. Please tell me."

And so she did. From beginning to end. She related the events which had occurred in Konan and in Kutou. He sensed that she left out many things and glossed over many more, in order to spare him guilt and pain. His heart constricted with sorrow when he learned about Houki's illness and the conspiracy at the palace, but she had hastened to assure him that everything had been put right by _Nakago_. When her brother and Tamahome were kidnapped, it had once again been _Nakago_ who had saved them by selflessly sacrificing himself to Seiryuu in exchange. Hearing her tell the tale, he listened, not so much to what she said about the blonde seishi, but more to _how_ she said it. Her cheeks were flushed when she spoke of their former enemy, and she tended to include more detail when it came to something the ex-shogun had done. Suddenly, Andy knew the truth with a sinking sense of certainty, without asking, without being told…

_She's in love with him_, he paled, as gut-wrenching pain twisted his insides. _The blonde bastard has been by her side all this time, playing the part of the reluctant hero to perfection; winning her trust…and her heart. I thought Miaka and Tamahome would be together forever…I really believed what they had was true love. How could she forsake Tamahome like this?_ He saw the way her beautiful hazel eyes darkened, how her hand trembled as she lifted her glass to take a fortifying sip of iced lemon tea. To his dismay, he realised that his thoughts must have shown on his face. It made him feel like the worst sort of scum. "Oh god, I'm sorry, Miaka…I swear I didn't mean to upset you," he apologised, ashamed of himself for allowing his jealousy to get the better of him, "I had no right to judge you in any way…Please, forgive me."

Her smile, while sincere, was tinged with sadness, "Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. I know it's hard, maybe impossible, to forgive him for the things he has done…" She met his gaze, "And I don't blame you if you can't forgive him. I won't try to force you to befriend him…But he's different now and I…I…" she hesitated over the words, afraid to hurt Hotohori again with the admission.

He reached out to take her hand, letting her know that he was not angry at her. His lips turned upwards wryly, "You love him, I can tell." Shaking his head in resignation, his golden eyes were sober, "You know, I always wished that I had been the first seishi to find you when you arrived in Konan…maybe you would have fallen in love with me instead of with Tamahome. But honestly, I never really had a chance with you, did I?" It appeared that the cruel fates were not quite finished with their ridicule of him…the knowledge that Nakago—the last person he would have believed to be a rival for Miaka's love—had succeeded where he had failed actually hurt more than the fatal blast the shogun had directed at him during their fateful battle.

She opened her mouth, but whether it was to confirm or to protest against his words, he would never know, because he put a finger to her lips, stopping her before she could make a sound, "Don't answer that…I don't think I can handle the truth."

"Hotohori." He trembled at the way his name sounded coming from her; at her touch as she put her small hand over his. "Someday, you'll find someone wonderful, and you'll be happier than you can possibly imagine. When that happens, you'll probably wonder why you wasted your time on me in the first place!" she said with a self-deprecating grin.

Slumping in his seat, Andy sighed dramatically, "Yeah, I'll find her when I'm seventy and _'she'_ will probably have four legs, a tail, and have a habit of chewing up my shoes…" he deadpanned.

The dark mood was broken as they laughed together at his joke, enjoying each other's company. They had always been more than simply just Seishi and Miko…they were true friends. Andy was glad just to be able to talk to her and be near her. She treated him like a normal person, and not like an emperor or a pop star.

Meanwhile, he could bask in the warmth of her personality and pretend that there was a real possibility of something more between them, if only for a little while.

* * *

Miaka wasn't exactly sure how she had ended up inside an empty concert hall with Hotohori. She was sure, however, that many girls would kill to be in her place. Hotohori, she had to admit, was handsome, thoughtful and incredibly kind. Under normal circumstances, he would be any girl's dream boyfriend…just not hers. _What's wrong with me?_ Things would have been a great deal easier if she'd had enough sense to fall for nice guys like Tamahome and Hotohori, but no, her heart had to choose the one person whom continually challenged and taunted her…the one individual who had the questionable distinction of inspiring unadulterated hatred in the past. She smiled ruefully to herself, _I'm in love with the most sarcastic, anti-social, egotistical jerk on the face of this earth. Doesn't say much for my taste in men, does it? _Yet, at the same time, she knew beyond all doubt that Nakago, beneath his emotionally barricaded exterior and ice-cold disposition, would be the most gentle and considerate of lovers.

The beginnings of a song drifted over her, interrupting her current train of thought. It was slightly worrying, how Nakago had somehow managed to lodge himself into her consciousness, and it suddenly occurred to her that she seemed to think about him almost constantly...

_There, you see? You're doing it again! _An annoyingly matter-of-fact voice in her head pointed out. Pursing her lips, she resolved not to daydream about Nakago. It simply wasn't healthy.

The reincarnation of her seishi was up on the stage, his talented fingers picking out a tune on a huge grand piano. Even dressed simply in well-worn boots, a button-down shirt of a violet so dark that it looked almost black, and faded jeans; with his long hair coming loose from the leather tie at his nape, the picture he made was wildly romantic. As she listened, the tune became more distinct while retaining its initial beauty. It spoke of deep, powerful feelings, of love, and of longing…

Entranced, Miaka found herself holding her breath, until the last poignant note hung in the air before fading into silence. Hands resting on the keyboard, Hotohori remained perfectly still for a long moment, lost in his own little private world…or wherever it was he escaped to when he composed his music.

"That was beautiful." The auditorium seemed to amplify her whispered words.

And just as suddenly, the spell was broken as he lifted his head and turned to look at her, his golden eyes seeming to almost glow in the subdued lighting. There was an odd expression in them, one that she could not quite define. "That tune has been in my head ever since I met you last night," he admitted softly. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but seemed to think the better of it and busied himself by carefully closing the lid of the piano.

When he stepped off the stage to join her where she had been sitting in the front row of seats, he seemed back to normal again. Smiling, he offered a hand to help her up. "Come to my concert tonight."

"Hotohori…"

"Please? I'll ask one of my people to pick you up from your house and sneak you in," he coaxed as he gave her his version of 'puppy-dog eyes' which effectively melted away the last of her resistance. "I would really like for you to be there. Who knows? I might suffer from last minute stage fright and need you to reassure me!"

"Stage fright? You? Not likely!" she laughed as she took the proffered hand and they made their way back up the aisle that led to the nearest exit. "But I was going to say that I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll be honoured to be there."

* * *

"Hotohori is _Andy Wong_? That pop star from China whose concert everyone at school has been raving about for ages? _Your_ Hotohori?" Yui repeated, dumbfounded. "How could you not have noticed that it was him? Half the girls in our class have posters of him in their lockers!"

The russet-haired miko coughed in embarrassment, "Well…yes. But I guess I had…other things on my mind." If anyone had asked her about the last few months, she would not have been able to recall much. After she had returned from inside the Shijintenchisho, she had simply gone through the motions of living, making her way through each day on auto-pilot. Two weeks ago, Nakago had become a part of her life once more…and she'd been distracted, but for entirely different reasons. "And he's not _my_ Hotohori!" she was compelled to add, feeling her ears burning. She steadfastly refused to look at the person lounging on the couch beside her, not wanting to see that accursed smirk on his face.

Yui pouted, "You're so lucky! It's unfair…You got all the good-looking seishi! I got…the Painted Freak. _And _Miboshi. Ugh…" The dragon priestess shuddered at the memory.

Miaka was surprised when Nakago made no comment. She had expected something suitably snide and witty, yet he did nothing more than sit next to her in silence, letting the conversation in the room flow around him. As she was telling Yui and Keisuke about the time she had spent with Hotohori, she chanced a furtive peek at the blonde man. He looked merely thoughtful, and it was virtually impossible to discern the nature of his musings. She wasn't so naïve as to think that Nakago wasn't listening to what was being said… everything about him reminded her of a large jungle cat lazily sunning itself; relaxed, but still alert.

Sometime later, the former Seiryuu seishi abruptly stood and left. He made no explanation as to where he was going and Miaka assumed that he had gone to use the bathroom or perhaps to make a private call on his cell phone…

…Which was why she began to feel a trickle of unease when he did not come back after more than a few minutes. She doubted that his failure to return could be attributed to him falling into the toilet—as amusing as that mental image was—and drowning, therefore… Miaka did not see the knowing grins Keisuke and Yui exchanged behind her back as she went to track down her missing arch-nemesis-recently-turned-love-interest. Nor did she hear them sneaking out the front door in order to give the two lovebirds some privacy.

Searching through the apartment, it was not long before she found him in her bedroom. He stood with his back to the doorway, ostensibly contemplating the view outside her window.

"Would you care to tell me why you got up and left like that?" she asked softly as she folded her arms and observed him. Late afternoon sunlight poured in through the window, glinting off his blonde hair and highlighting his features. _Perfection. _Her heart did a mad little jig. It was absolutely criminal for anyone to be so handsome.

"I got tired of hearing about the heroic emperor of Konan and decided to remove myself before I suffered any permanent psychological damage," he replied smoothly. True to form, it was an explanation and an insult rolled into one. Then, without the slightest warning, he turned and stalked across the room towards her.

Backing her up against the wall, he closed his hands around her tiny waist, effectively trapping her. Miaka let out a squeak of surprise, but was too lost in the heat of the moment to protest. Instead, she boldly urged him closer by reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers instinctively tangled in the hair at his nape in tacit invitation, holding him to her.

Lowering his head, he nuzzled the edge of her ear in approval and along the delicate (but stubborn) line of her jaw. He paused to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the pulse point at her throat, enjoying the way she trembled with pleasure. Slipping his hands just under the hem of her T-shirt, he stroked upwards along her sides, silently asking for permission to proceed. When she did not give him any indication that he should stop, he flattened his palms fully against her warm skin, his fingers splaying across her lower ribs and brushing tantalisingly close to her breasts. He suddenly had a searing vision of himself paying homage to every inch of her slender body with his lips and hands as he slowly undressed her.

Need, hot and primal, slammed into him. She was his for the taking, with the bed only a few steps away. She was so small—almost dwarfed by his much larger frame—and so incredibly responsive…

Nicholas breathed out slowly on a sensitive place he'd found, watching her pulse leap in reaction. With a faint smirk, he swirled the rough velvet of his tongue against the fascinating little hollow.

Once. Twice.

The taste, feel and scent of her inundated his senses until he was barely aware of anything beyond himself and the girl-woman he held in his arms. Abandoning any further exploration before he lost the thin sliver control he still possessed, he settled over the spot he had been paying so much attention to, savouring the texture of her satin-soft skin. He felt rather than heard, the soft purr of appreciation vibrating along her vocal cords at the gentle, sensuous suction he was creating with his mouth. She arched into him, and he widened his stance so that she was cradled between his thighs…until they were nestled hip to hip and chest to chest, as close as two people could get with their clothes on.

The passionate intimacy of their embrace seemed to hold them suspended in a place where time had no meaning. _Gods, he needed her…_The almost-painful, throbbing in a certain part of his anatomy could no longer be safely ignored without bringing their encounter to its inevitable and very logical conclusion; as Nature decreed it _must_ be between a man and a woman. He knew that sex between them would be better than good. It would be magnificent, and so intense that he would never want to be with anyone else. The walls that he had so painstakingly spent his life erecting would crumble in an instant. Every last one of them. They would be laid bare to each other, in body…and in soul.

There would be no more barriers, no more secrets, no more falsities between them. He wasn't sure if he was quite ready to open himself up to her so completely. Nor, he suspected, was she. While he had no doubt now that they would eventually become lovers in every sense, it was not going to be today…and certainly not an hour before her 'date' with her former seishi. He literally ached to be a part of her, to be inside her, and it was getting harder to deny Miaka and himself what they both wanted. _Soon, _he promised wordlessly.

Carefully releasing her, he allowed his gaze to wander possessively over the evidence of his handiwork. The pitch of his voice dropped an octave as he met her eyes, "Go to Saihitei's concert. But remember _this_…" he touched the mark he'd left on the vulnerable curve of her throat, "…as he sings his love to you."

* * *

The pyrotechnics went off with flawless timing just as the stage lights went out, and his fans roared their approval as he ended the fast-paced pop song in a shower of golden sparks, bringing the concert to a close.

The concert was a success. His manager would no doubt be ecstatic and stop nagging him about going out earlier to meet Miaka sans his bodyguards. With a wry smile, he realised that his present occupation suited him far better than being an emperor ever had. He was a poet and a romantic at heart, whereas a country's subjects had little use for flowery sentiment and words of love. Almost instinctively, his eyes sought her. He had caught sight of her right from the beginning, for she alone stood out from the sea of bodies. She was dressed in what looked like a sequinned lavender silk halter top that sparkled with every movement and a short cream-coloured skirt. Here he was, standing before an audience of thousands, and all he could think of was how beautiful she looked. Every song he had sang, was for her. Every song he had ever written, was about her. It didn't matter whether it was in the past or the present…inside, he was still the same man who had once loved the Suzaku no Miko.

Miaka was in the VIP box near the stage. All around her, people cheered and shouted for an encore. Hotohori was an amazing performer, and she had genuinely enjoyed watching him. The energy and showmanship he had displayed tonight had taken her by surprise. As the emperor of Konan, he had always seemed so restrained, burdened as he was with the responsibilities of running a country. However, one thing had not changed…he still had the ability to command attention.

She was forced to admit, however, that her attention had strayed more than a few times over the past several hours. Miaka lifted a hand to her throat where, hidden under the mandarin collar of the halter which left her upper back bare, Nakago's little 'gift' seemed to throb in time to every beat of her heart. Although it was mostly psychological, she was so painfully conscious of the love bite—she could still almost feel his warm lips on her skin—that she found it hard to focus on anything else…

Which had been his ultimate intention anyway. The insufferable blonde man had known precisely how it would affect her. For the umpteenth time, she soundly cursed his ability to predict human behaviour. It was what made him such a brilliant tactician and strategist. While it was wonderfully ego-boosting to know that she had the power to inspire such possessiveness in a man as coolly aloof as Nakago, the unorthodox way he'd gone about it was distinctly unnerving. Sometimes, it scared her, just how easily she fell headlong into his traps and how susceptible she was to his practiced seduction. She ground her teeth together in irritation. Apparently, he had put his considerable intellect to thinking up new and inventive ways of keeping her off-balance.

And he didn't seem particularly interested in playing fair...

She absently fingered the unique blue earring Yui had given her after Tenkou's defeat two Christmases ago, when she had been missing a certain annoying blonde man. Not that she would have admitted it at the time. Miaka heaved a sigh. She had been so young, so innocent then, thinking that Nakago and herself could be simply _friends_.

Barely ten minutes later, she saw a single spotlight come on in the centre of the stage, illuminating the lone figure sitting at an immense (and very familiar) grand piano. The crowd waited expectantly with collective bated breath. He played a few opening chords with dramatic flair, allowing them to fade before he spoke into the microphone mounted in front of him.

"This song was inspired by an old friend, who never failed to bring a smile to my face…" His fingers caressed the piano keys with the long familiarity of a lover, and the notes that emerged rang clear and true.

Voice slightly husky with emotion, he began to sing.

_All this time I've been endlessly chasing  
__The material things which were never lacking  
__When I needed someone to set me free  
__There you were, standing right in front of me_

Miaka was moved by the power and the depth of feeling she heard in it. Hotohori had put words to the tune he'd played that afternoon. They fitted the melody perfectly.

_I just want to chase every second of this life  
__Discover the love I've come so far to find  
__Spread my wings and learn to fly  
__From tonight until the end of time_

It was a song about the realisation of love. Pure and simple. More than that, Miaka heard the hidden yearning and her heart ached for him, wishing she could do something. Unfortunately, she couldn't give him what he wanted, not when it already belonged to someone else.

_I saw the beginning of forever today  
__Now and always, come what may  
__Only you loved me for who I am  
__Not an angel, just an ordinary man…_

The last refrain was barely above a whisper. He was staring straight at her, and she could see now that the bright gleam in his eyes were actually tears. It took her a moment to realise that the song had ended before a split-second later, thunderous applause broke out. The audience was on its feet, giving him a standing ovation. Her former seishi inclined his head slightly at her, a gesture that only she was privy to, before he gracefully got up and took a bow.

"Ms. Yuuki?"

She gave a start when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Turning, she saw a tall man with green-tinged black hair. He wore a security pass clipped to his jacket identifying him as one of the concert officials. "Yes?" Miaka answered cautiously, wondering what he wanted.

The man introduced himself, "I work for Andy. He has asked me to extend his most sincere apologies to you and inform you that he will be busy with an interview with the reporters. It will be quite some time before he escapes from their clutches, so he has instructed me to drive you home first," he explained pleasantly.

Miaka nodded her head in understanding. Press conferences were a necessary evil, according to Hotohori. He hated attending them, but had little choice but to put up with them for the publicity. After a moment's consideration, she turned to the waiting man, "It's okay, I can take a cab home. You really don't have to drive me…" she said politely, not wanting to put him through any trouble.

The official raised his eyebrows as if in astonishment, "Are you kidding? Andy will have my head on a plate if I don't. Besides, it's going to be very difficult to get a cab around here with all the other concert-goers trying to do the same thing."

That particular thought had not occurred to her and one glance at the crowds of people making their way to the exits confirmed that her chances of getting home via public transport any time soon were slim to none. Gathering her bag and jacket from her seat, she made to follow the man who was obviously just trying to do his job. The guy seemed nice enough, and she quite liked him. "I see your point. Guess I'll have to take you up on the offer…Thank you." She noticed the look of relief that flashed across his face and wondered why. Surely Andy wouldn't fire his employee for failing to carry out this task, would he?

* * *

As she was led into the carpark through a side door that was marked "Authorized Personnel Only", Miaka had a strange sense that something was not quite right. She couldn't put her finger on it, and shrugged it off as a figment of her imagination. The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions caused by Hotohori and Nakago.

They stopped in front of a shiny black Mercedes with tinted windows. Hotohori's assistant opened the passenger door and courteously ushered her into the seat. She smiled up at him, "Thank you…er…I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name," she said with a little embarrassment.

The man looked as if she'd taken him by surprise, "Probably because I didn't give it…How very remiss of me!" After the tiniest of hesitations, he said, "You can call me Ash."

Before she could say anything, he had closed the door. A moment later, he slid into the driver's seat but did not start the engine. Instead, there was a low click of the central locking system being activated.

The doors had been locked.

Miaka whipped her head towards Ash in puzzlement, just in time to feel him roughly grabbing the back of her head with one hand and clamping a wet piece of cloth over her nose and mouth with the other. She lost her balance and toppled over, falling heavily on top the gearshift between the two seats. The hard object dug into her abdomen, causing the air to whoosh explosively out of her lungs. Without thinking, her body's survival instinct instantly kicked in and she drew in a sharp breath.

A sickly-sweet scent immediately flooded her nostrils, making her feel alarmingly light-headed. She tried desperately to lash out at him, to pry his hand away from her face, but he was much stronger than she was and easily ignored her weakening attempts. The minutes ticked by as he mercilessly held on, forcing her to breathe in more and more of the nauseating fumes.

The man who had given his name as 'Ash' sneered grimly as the girl's movements turned sluggish and finally ceased altogether. Removing the chloroform-soaked rag from her pretty face, he swiftly checked her vital signs. It simply would not do for her to die from chemical poisoning…she would be completely useless to him if he'd accidentally killed her. As it was, she had held out against the primitive but powerful anaesthetizing agent for an impressive amount of time, struggling to the very last. But then again, he'd always known that she was a fighter. It was, after all, one of the reasons why the blonde bastard of a Shogun liked her.

Chuckling softly, he shoved her limp form upright and back into the passenger seat. As an afterthought, he fastened the safety belt across her body. It was definitely not a night he wanted to be stopped by the Tokyo traffic police for violating safety rules.

The driver grinned to himself. Revenge was well within his grasp, and the unwitting Suzaku no Miko was going to help him get it, whether she wanted to or not.

* * *

Notes:

1) I finally surface again with another chapter after _months_! I'm really trying not to make this a habit. Anyway, hope all of you enjoyed this one. It's a whopping 12 pages in Arial font size 10.

2) The lyrics to the song Hotohori/Andy sings are entirely made up by yours truly. They don't really rhyme very well. I'm a fanfic writer and an extremely crappy poet/lyricist. I apologise for inflicting that on you guys.

3) As you can see, things are really starting to heat up, on the personal relationship front as well as the beginning of some MAJOR action. I won't give too much away, but I will say that there will be some shake-ups (or in this case, break-ups) and surprises in the coming chapters. The identity of the person who apparently has a bone to pick with Nakago will be revealed…I love using previously undeveloped FY characters in my stories. Heh. Tough choices will have to be made, sides will be chosen, and everyone tries to contribute their two cents' worth. The course of true love was never this bumpy…


	7. Where Angels Fear To Tread

**Chapter 7 : Where Angels Fear To Tread**

The clock on the wall showed the hour to be just past seven o'clock. Keisuke had gone from pacing the room nervously to slouching in an armchair, worry and exhaustion stamped on his features. Across from him, Taka determinedly fixed his eyes on the television set for lack of anything better to do. It was a futile effort. They were both aware that he was not really watching the early morning talkshow that was currently airing, and if quizzed on the topic that the hosts were discussing, he would have failed on all counts. He had dropped by the previous night to talk to Keisuke about Hotohori…as well as to announce his decision to participate in a student exchange programme which would take him out of the country for the better part of a year. Miaka's brother understood the reasons behind such a decision, although he'd begged Taka to reconsider. Emotionally, the former Suzaku seishi was at loose ends…he had spent his entire life believing that he was destined to be with Miaka. He needed to find himself again, and nurse a broken heart…things he could only do away from the constant reminder of what he had lost.

However, what had been supposed to be a short visit to the Yuuki residence had turned into an all-night vigil when Miaka had failed to return their repeated phone calls.

"Where is that girl?" Keisuke's hands tightened on the cushioned armrests, his fingers digging into the fabric-covered padding, "The concert ended at ten…_LAST NIGHT! _She should have at least called home if she was going to stay out overnight!"

"Maybe her cell phone went dead…" Taka pointed out with a frown, his violet eyes dark and shadowed from lack of sleep. He started at the shrill ring of the telephone, holding his breath as Keisuke dived for the handset. Miaka had called! No doubt she was going to get an earful from her brother for making them worry…

Seconds later, he realised that his relief had been premature as all colour drained from the other man's face. With mounting worry, he watched as Keisuke conversed in low tones with the caller. "Who was that?" he asked as his friend slowly and mechanically put down the phone.

Miaka's brother looked at him with troubled eyes, "That was Andy—…I mean, Hotohori. He called to find out if she got home okay…he said that he looked for her after the concert, but could not find her, so he assumed that she'd already left…"

Taka straightened, his hands clenching and unclenching convulsively, "Give Yui-chan a call. Maybe Miaka's over there." Pausing, he had to almost force the next sentence out, "And Naka—…Nicholas. Miaka might have decided to spend the night at _his _place." The words, as well as those that had gone unsaid, left him feeling shaken and ill. Whatever his miko and the blonde man whom she loved did when they were alone together was none of his business, and he had done his level best to stay away these past few weeks. Jealousy was an ugly emotion, as he had recently discovered. It made him want to hurt the very person he loved and had sworn to protect. _No!_ _I just want her to be happy! If he's the one who can make her smile, then I will respect her decision! _he told himself fiercely.

A quick check with Yui yielded no results except to alarm the girl, who promised to come over as soon as she could.

With trembling fingers, Keisuke dialled the unlisted number Miaka's blonde suitor had given them in case of emergencies. After no more than two rings, the call was answered by a curt, rather intimidating "This is Raine."

"Er…Nicholas? It's Keisuke. Is Miaka there?"

"No." There was a slight pause on other end as the information was rapidly processed. If it was possible for there to be a sound for temperature dropping to absolute zero, Keisuke would have sworn that he heard it. "Why did you ask?" The question sounded almost unnaturally calm.

Gripping the telephone cord tightly, he cut straight to the chase, knowing that the erstwhile leader of the Seiryuu seishi would not tolerate any delaying tactics, "She didn't come home last night and Andy has not seen her since the end of his concert. She's not answering her cell phone, and—"

He was interrupted in mid-sentence by a brusque _"Fifteen minutes"_ before the line went dead, leaving him staring numbly at the phone in his hand.

A slight rustle at the main entrance to the apartment alerted them of something being shoved through the gap under the door. By the time Taka had raced over and yanked the door open, the hallway outside was deserted. Of the messenger, there was no sign. Gingerly picking up the unmarked white envelope, he slowly unsealed the flap, almost dreading what he would find inside.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, carefully folded into half. The note was not signed, nor did it explicitly state who it was meant for. Lips moving soundlessly as he read the words printed on the page, Taka could not prevent himself from crushing the empty envelope in helpless rage. As he did so, something else was dislodged, falling to the wooden floor with a small clatter. Both men stared at the object in silence, but neither made any move to pick it up. The beautiful and unusual blue gem of the single earring gleamed in a bright shaft of morning sunlight, seeming to mock them in much the same way its original owner was fond of doing…

* * *

Precisely fourteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds after Keisuke's phone call, Nicholas arrived at the apartment. He had probably broken about a dozen traffic laws in order to get here in record time, only to find the door had been left wide open, inviting both friend and foe to enter. _Do they have no sense of self-preservation at all? Who are they expecting to stroll in? Mary Poppins?_ Mouth set in a grim line, he decided that anyone with the last name of Yuuki would likely be the death of him…his present life had been blessedly normal and unexciting (not to mention very _safe_) until he had met Miaka again. Not bothering to announce his presence, he simply walked in without knocking. Miaka's brother and Taka Sukunami both looked up at the same time when he strode into the living room.

"Nicholas!" Keisuke leapt to his feet, insanely glad at the appearance of the former Seiryuu seishi. He was certain that Nicholas would know what to do…the man always seemed to have all the answers. Passing the letter over, he watched with trepidation as the blonde man impassively scanned the few words written on it.

_I believe I have something that is important to you, _Nicholas read, confirming his worst suspicions. The short missive was followed by a time and address, along with a final ominous instruction:

_Come alone._

Keisuke cleared his throat nervously, "There's something else. This came with it," he said softly, holding out the earring. He shivered at the feel of the flinty gaze which focused with piercing intensity on him. "Miaka was wearing it last night, when she went to Andy's concert," he added into the uncomfortable silence, a sense of disquiet washing over him. No sooner had he finished speaking, when they heard the sound of someone running down the hallway outside.

"Speak of the devil," Nicholas remarked blandly, an instant before a stylishly-dressed man with long hair bound in a low ponytail hurtled in through the open front door.

Andy stopped short and swept his gaze over the occupants in the room, sensing the tension filling every corner. Even the joy of seeing one of his fellow Suzaku seishi failed to alleviate the haze of dread wrapped around his heart. Nodding to Keisuke, he clasped Tamahome's hand in greeting; the bond of both friendship and fellowship between them snapping seamlessly into place as if they had never parted.

Solemnly taking the earring from Miaka's brother, Nicholas ignored the way the former emperor's face hardened at the sight of him. He had little interest in picking petty quarrels with the singer of sappy love ballads, preferring to focus on the few clues he had. The note was unmistakably meant for him. The person who had taken Miaka had known the significance of the earring. Therefore, it was safe to deduce that this particular someone also knew what had transpired inside the Book of the Four Gods and sought revenge against his past self. But who? Working through the possibilities in his mind, he found himself no closer to pinpointing the culprit. He'd made more enemies than he cared to count in his lifetime as Kutou's shogun, including two of the three men who were currently in the room with him. His hand fisted around the piece of jewellery which had once belonged to Nakago, feeling the small, hard shape impress itself into the flesh of his palm.

As if that was not enough to give him an ulcer…On top on his own personal feelings concerning Miaka which were already threatening to boil over, he now had to deal with not just one, but _two _of the Suzaku seishi. Not only were both of them in love with their miko…he knew they were just dying to run off and do something annoyingly heroic—and quite possibly foolish— to save her. The old adage that _'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread' _had probably been coined with them in mind.

It was turning out to be a very bad day…and it wasn't even 8 A.M. yet.

* * *

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" A voice said from somewhere nearby. Cold water was suddenly splashed into her face and left to drip onto her dry-clean-only halter top.

"Umggghh…" she moaned as she opened her eyes, promptly decided that it was not a good idea, and screwed them shut again. The entire world seemed to spin around her, and her stomach protested by threatening to turn itself inside out. She wished she had not snacked on that piece of two-week-old pizza earlier; almost as much as she wished she knew what had happened to result in her being tied to a chair…

That last thought brought her back to her senses with blinding speed. The recollection of the events which had led to her current sorry state of affairs battered at her brain, turning a dull throb into a full blown headache. Her vision swam, and she had to fight not to throw up. Between taking deep breaths and counting slowly to twenty, she waited for the nausea to subside before venturing to lift her head. A feat in itself, since her head felt as if several elephants were having a tap-dancing competition on it.

The man responsible for her predicament stood in front of her, watching her with amusement. He'd changed out of the concert official's uniform into an elegant midnight blue silk shirt and white linen trousers. The light of day revealed what the dim concert auditorium had hidden before. Black hair with an eerie green tinge to it framed an angular face with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. Miaka glared at him for all she was worth, "Who are you? What do you want?" she demanded, struggling against the bonds that circled her wrists and ankles.

"You really shouldn't do that. You'll only hurt yourself, you know. I assure you, the ropes are quite secure," the kidnapper advised as he lit up a cigarette. Sure enough, her wrists were soon chaffed and raw from rubbing against the thick ropes. She grudgingly recognised the futility of her present actions and stopped, only to repeat her initial questions through gritted teeth.

Walking up to her, he leaned down until they were almost eye to eye. "Don't you remember me, _Suzaku no Miko_? I believe we met in Hokkan. You and your accursed seishi put out my eye with a flare. Does that ring any bells?" he said in a patronising tone of voice, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke in her face which made her eyes water and sent her into a coughing fit.

_He said I could call him Ash…Oh god…Ash. Ash-it-are… _

His thin lips twisted into a smile, sensing the moment realisation dawned upon her. The façade of pleasant politeness which he had adopted earlier when he had sought her out after the concert was long gone. He was anything but pleasant now. She wanted to kick herself for being so gullible. _Nakago is going to laugh at my stupidity…And boy, is he going to be pissed that he's got to rescue me. AGAIN. Way to go, Yuuki… _

"So you were reincarnated as well…" Miaka suddenly felt a wrenching sense of fear taking hold of her. Ashitare had been strong enough to fight Nuriko to the death, and the probability that he had something extremely unpleasant planned for her was very high. "Why are you doing this?" she bit out, trying to keep the rising hysteria out of her voice. What scared her more than anything was the fact that the former Seiryuu seishi did not seem to be unstable or deranged in the least, and one look into his eyes revealed a cold, implacable sense of purpose.

Ashitare chuckled maliciously, "Why? Odd that you should ask…" It was not difficult to see the reason his former master was attracted to her, he reflected. While she was unlikely to win any Miss Universe pageants, the Suzaku no Miko exuded a sort of wholesome goodness and possessed a never-say-die attitude that would appeal to one as world-weary as Nakago. _Not that she's ugly, and she's grown quite a bit, _a lecherous part of him pointed out as he observed her from under hooded lids. Long slender legs, huge luminous hazel eyes, pale flawless skin, and russet hair that hung artlessly down her back in silky ripples made up for what she lacked in conventional beauty. Aware that his mind had taken a dangerous detour, he pulled his attention back to the conversation at hand, his musings barely causing him to miss a beat, "All this is for Nakago's benefit, and you, my dear, are going to be the centrepiece. Besides, what better way to take revenge on the ice-cold bastard than to take away that which is most precious to him?"

_Lie through your teeth, _her inner voice prompted. The person standing in front of her bore little resemblance to the half-man, half-beast seishi she had encountered in Hokkan. For one, he was unnervingly _human _in appearance in this incarnation…in fact, he could even be considered good-looking. Not to mention that he spoke with the eloquence of someone who was obviously well educated. However, his entire manner had an underlying menace which was not so different from a wild predator waiting to pounce. Between a man who looked like a beast and a beast who looked like a man, she much preferred the former. "Precious! I think you're barking up the wrong tree, buddy! Nakago wouldn't _care_ if I suddenly met with a tragic, untimely death! The blonde jerk tried to _kill_ me! He sent_ YOU _to kill me, remember?" she growled, injecting a note of indignant exasperation into her speech and mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that it sounded convincing.

The attractive black-haired man burst out laughing, "Believe me, I am betting that he will care a great deal. You needn't bother lying to me; I've seen the two of you getting rather…cosy with each other on more than one occasion. You are covered with his scent…his chosen mate, as it were." Quick as lightning, he grabbed her chin and forced her head to the side, revealing the reddened skin on the side of her neck, "He's even marked you as his own. How very _primitive_ of him. Perhaps he and I are more alike than I thought…" The enhanced senses of the wolf inside him put him at a distinct advantage when dealing with the Suzaku no Miko. She was right to be afraid of him and what he could do to her. He could see her pulse racing and hear her little heart pounding wildly. Leaning in close, he once again invaded her personal space, "I'm sure he won't begrudge me a little taste, ne?" The subtle, yet alluring perfume she was wearing, spiked with a healthy dose of fear made for a heady scent.

In short, she smelled delicious…

She gave him a horrified look, squirming against the ropes in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. He leered at her, grinning wolfishly, and shoved her away from him hard enough for the chair to topple over, taking her along with it. The shriek was barely out of her throat before it was cut off by the painful impact with the concrete floor, which rattled her teeth and knocked the breath out of her lungs.

"Poor Soi, she tried so hard and sacrificed so much. Only to lose to _you_, of all people." Much to Miaka's relief, he seemed to become lost in thought and absently righted the chair (with her still tied to it) once more. "He's really got you wrapped around his little finger, hasn't he? Just like it was with Soi.Nice to know some things haven't changed…" he drawled, "Did you know that he used to lie with her almost every night?" The Seiryuu seishi licked his lips suggestively, "She would always leave his chambers before dawn, smelling like _him_…and sex."

One unfortunate side-effect from being in caught in a stressful situation was that the brakes between her brain and her mouth invariably failed. Before she could think better of it, Miaka blurted, "You were in love with her! You _stalked_ her! Probably even spied on them while they were—_Ewwww_…" She groaned inwardly as soon as the words were uttered, _Now you've really gone and done it, Yuuki! He's going to murder you in cold blood—_

"NO!"

The single exclamation was so sharp that the Miko recoiled visibly at his blazing anger.She did not understand. No one did. Not Soi, not Nakago, and most definitely not the brazen, misguided innocent who should have known better than to open her pretty little mouth. Whatever he had hoped to achieve by telling her about Nakago's past with Soi had backfired. Not only did the little twit not seem jealous in the least, he could see the disgust painted across her expressive face. The knowledge that she thought of him as a pervert rankled more than he was willing to admit.

He speared her with a hard, burning stare. "No," he said again, this time more calmly, "She was merely the only voice who spoke on my behalf when Lord-bloody-Nakago decided that I had outlived my usefulness." Hands clasped back his back, he adopted a thoughtful pose, "I have not forgotten that, nor have I forgiven the way he rewarded my loyalty with punishment and death."

"You're lying! I bet you were just jealous of him for having something you couldn't have!" Miaka snapped furiously, refusing to believe that even Nakago had been capable of such inhuman actions. She knew how cruel he'd been to his enemies, of course…_but to knowingly take the life of his own fellow seishi? Impossible! _One good thing which had come out of her association with the enigmatic blonde man was that she knew when someone was trying to play mind-games with her. Ashitare had been trying to make her jealous by telling her about Soi…However, he did not know what Miaka knew; had not seen the things she had glimpsed in her former arch-enemy's mind the night Tasuki had drunkenly attacked her in the Shijintenchisho.She understood that Nakago, for all his twisted ambition and indifference to the suffering of others, had cared for the lovely female seishi in the only way he had been capable of. That had been the one thing that had kept the last vestige of humanity in him from completely dying out…it had been a near miss, but thankfully, enough morality had survived for him to make that fateful decision to help her against Tenkou, and to make the choice between good and evil. In a way, she supposed, she owed the other woman a debt of gratitude. "Even if what you say is true, I don't care what he did in the past! He's no longer the same man you once knew!" Glowering venomously at the man holding her prisoner, she asked scathingly, "By the way, did you know that kidnapping is considered illegal in all 193 countries of the world?"

"I see that being with my esteemed shogun has sharpened your tongue. But there is no need for lies," the former wolf-man retorted with a smirk, dark eyes gleaming vengefully, "When the truth is so much more entertaining. No matter, your lover will be here soon."

"He's not my lover!" _Yet. _Unfortunately, her protest fell on deaf ears.

He turned to fiddle with something lying on the table behind him. When Ashitare finally moved to face her, he had something which looked vaguely like a fire extinguisher cradled almost lovingly in his hands. A sinister smile graced his sharp features, "Do you know what this is, Suzaku no Miko?"

She shook her head mutely. For once, Miaka decided that keeping her opinions to herself would be critical to her continued well-being. Nevertheless, she had a sinking feeling that she was about to find out exactly what the object he held was used for. Although not a genius by any stretch of the imagination, something told her that it was not going to be pleasant.

To her surprise, he began untying her. She flexed her fingers and toes, trying to get the circulation back into her extremities.

_This is my chance…_She readied herself. The moment the last knot gave way, she fairly exploded out of the chair.

However, before she had a chance to take more than two steps, she felt his hand lock around her arm. Stomach clenching in desperation, Miaka turned and shoved him hard enough to send a normal man stumbling. But she had forgotten…Ashitare was not a normal man. He did not budge. Grinning at her, the former werewolf tightened his grip. His fingers dug into her skin, almost hard enough snap the bone.

An evil light shone in his bottomless onyx eyes, and for a moment, they seemed to glow like hot coals. He turned briskly, dragging her up a flight of stairs and down a hallway as she struggled fiercely, hissing and spitting like a cornered cat. With her nails, she managed to get in one good swipe, leaving behind five bloody streaks on the side of his face.

"So the kitten has claws! You'll pay for that!"

Halting in front of a heavy steel door, he pulled it open with casual strength. She attempted to retreat as a blast of frigid air hit her head-on. However, Ashitare was having none of that. Holding on tight to her, a dark sneer spread across his features. He grabbed both her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides.

A heartbeat later, he crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss right there on the threshold to the cold room. Miaka felt a scream welling up in her throat as he began to roughly push his tongue into her mouth. There was no passion behind Ashitare's assault…he was using it as a means to force her submission. Everything inside her rebelled against the invasion. Not only did she refuse to bow to the monster who held her captive, but she loved Nakago with all her heart, and another man's touch made her want to heave.

She bared her teeth and sunk them into his lower lip.

The reincarnated Seiryuu seishi ripped his mouth away from hers, "You little wretch!" he snarled, wiping at the stream of bright red liquid trickling from the bite wound. Without another word, he flung her into the small chamber and slammed the door.

She slid down the opposite wall, her heart pounding so hard that she was sure that it would burst out of her chest. The ominous clang of a series of bolts being shot home caused a deep dread to form in the pit of her stomach.

Only then, as she sat huddled alone in the cold darkness, did the tears come.

* * *

Andy massaged his temples, trying to ease the splitting headache pounding against the inside of his skull. The events of the morning had unfolded into his worst nightmare.…one of the concert officials had been found in the carpark, unconscious from a blow to the head and stripped of his uniform and security pass. At the same time, Miaka had gone missing. It was too much of a coincidence.

Miaka had been kidnapped while in _his _care. A security breach had occurred at _his _concert. Silently berating himself for what had happened to his miko, he longed to bury his face in his hands, but pride prevented him from doing so. He was sure that Nakago blamed him for everything, but he refused to appear weak in front of his arch-rival, despite the fact that the bane of his existence had barely spared him more than a cursory glance.

Instead, the unflappable blonde man appeared to be calmly working on the laptop computer he'd brought with him. _Working! As if nothing has happened! _Andy gritted his teeth as he watched Nakago making some notations on several sheets of paper covered with complex graphs and figures. Pale blue eyes concentrated on whatever was on the computer screen as long fingers deftly flew over the keyboard. The former emperor endured a few more minutes of the sight of his nemesis diligently—cold-bloodedly—working. The way in which the Seiryuu seishi did not even have the decency to look concerned only served to fuel his righteous anger.

He stormed over and slammed his hands down on the table, causing Tamahome and Keisuke to tense visibly. "How can you possibly claim to care about her when you carry on like Miaka's not in danger!" Andy grated out angrily. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he had hoped to provoke out of the other man, but he certainly did not expect total indifference. The sound of typing continued, as Nakago acknowledged neither him nor his outburst. In a fit of pique, he moved to sweep the infernal laptop and papers off the table.

"Don't," a voice behind him warned softly.

He stiffened when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Tamahome. His fellow seishi shook his head, violet eyes filled with weariness and understanding. "Don't let him get to you," his former comrade muttered, the strain of worrying about Miaka's safety clouding his face. 'Obake-chan' tried to smile but only managed a weak imitation, "I'm supposed to be the impulsive one, Hotohori-san, not you."

Frustration ate away at Andy's composure; the inability to ensure Miaka's safety left him with a heavy feeling of helplessness. "We just can't sit here and do nothing!" he protested in agitation, fighting the urge to pace like a caged tiger. He did not shrug off Tamahome's hand, letting the other Suzaku seishi know that his fury was directed solely at Nakago.

"What would you have us do?" Nakago sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers and coldly regarded the two men he had fought against in the past, "Charge in there like fools and get her killed? Even Tamahome understands that we cannot make any moves until the time stipulated in the letter. I expected more common sense from you, _Saihitei. _I suggest you attempt to do something more constructive. Perhaps you should use the time to write another _love song._" His tone did not change and no emotion showed through the expressionless mask, but the last part was clearly meant as an insult.

Andy bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood, forcefully reining in the urge to throttle the soulless bastard. Pursing his lips, he glared hatefully at his old enemy, only to be met with a chilling silver-eyed stare. The message was abundantly clear. Nakago would use any means necessary to stop him from acting prematurely, and that included disabling him in a variety of painful ways. Earlier on, Miaka had revealed that the blonde man still retained some of his seishi powers, and apparently had no qualms about using them. He was the first to grudgingly look away from their impromptu battle of wills, telling himself that he would be no use to Miaka if he were incapacitated.

Satisfied that his unspoken threat had been received, Nicholas turned his attention back to the management proposal he had been formulating. Until they knew who they were up against, they would have to play it safe. He would not hesitate to hurt Hotohori if the Suzaku emperor did anything foolhardy. There was a time to act and a time for patience, and he refused to risk Miaka's life just so her immature seishi could play at being a hero. The blasted pretty-boy pop star did not know the first thing about him or how he felt about the Suzaku no Miko. Just because he was dealing with the situation in a calm and rational manner did not mean that he didn't care about Miaka...

He cared far to much about her. Maybe that was the problem.

* * *

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stave off the chill which was penetrating her bones. She'd tried pacing, hoping that the constant activity would keep her warm until Nakago came for her. However, as time passed, the temperature in the small chamber seemed to drop drastically, and she found herself shivering so violently that her legs refused to hold her weight.

Exhausted and disoriented by the unrelenting darkness of the enclosed space, despair began creeping over her. What if Nakago didn't find her in time? What if…? _No! Have faith in him! He has never failed you! _Miaka hunched over, curling herself as tightly as possible to minimize her skin's exposure to the frigid air.

_My Miko…_

She wearily lifted her head, forcing her eyes open. The simple action caused them to tear profusely. It was now so cold that she felt the moisture beginning to freeze on her cheeks. "Suzaku?" she whispered, wondering if she was hallucinating. Hope sparked when she saw the merest flicker of the phoenix god's red chi, shimmering in the murky blackness which surrounded her.

_Do not give up…It is not yet your time._

For some reason, a memory surfaced in her mind, and she recalled an impassive voice telling her, _"Your chi flares up when you get angry._ _I'll be able to find you, even in a crowd." _The owner of that voice had been teasing her at the time, in his own stoic way. She could still remember the glimmer of amusement in his blue eyes. It had been a wonderful day, and she had been standing at the foot of Tokyo Tower with Nakago at her side…That had been one of the happiest moments of her life.

Miaka staggered to her feet, knowing what she had to do. If Nakago still had his powers, then perhaps she did too. Hadn't that been what he had been hinting at that day? She had only consciously done this once, and that had been inside the Book of the Four Gods. Briefly, she mourned the fact that she did not have a useful ability, like Chichiri's teleportation or Nuriko's super-human strength. _Don't think like that! I'll use what I have to the best advantage! _Gritting her teeth together to stop them from chattering, she reached deep into herself, gathering every ounce willpower she possessed. Slowly, something phased into existence around her, its faint glow lighting up the walls of her icy prison.

Encouraged by the evidence that her efforts were paying off, she poured the strongest emotion she could summon into it…her love for the blonde man who had been with her that beautiful day. The colour of the psychic barrier shifted, from scarlet to a deep crimson.

Inside the protective bubble she had created, a gentle warmth surrounded her body, not enough to thaw her out completely, but enough to buy her a little more time until Nakago arrived to rescue her. Her breath came out in curling white puffs of vapour. She concentrated on standing tall for all the people she loved. Where there was a will, there was a way. _I will not lose!_

She felt her face become wet…

The tears on her cheeks had melted.

* * *

_Heroes are the people who do what has to be done **when** it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences_

**—Anonymous**

As far as warehouses went, this one was huge. The time dictated by the kidnapper was drawing near as Keisuke slid behind the wheel of the Porsche for the second time in two weeks. A strategy had been devised, and he was going to play his part as best as he could. He felt a flash of pride despite the grimness of their situation. For someone who trusted few people, the former shogun was trusting him to drive in the event that something happened to render Nicholas unable to do so. Trying not to dwell on the very real possibility that Nicholas would be injured in the rescue attempt (or the fact that the shrewd tactician had evidently factored it into his plans), Keisuke stiffened his spine, reminding himself that he should have more faith in the other man's abilities. If he had to bet on anyone managing to pull off everything off successfully, his money would be on Nicholas Raine.

He looked at the person who had won Miaka's heart, noting the quiet watchfulness which hid the steely determination underneath. Cold ruthlessness shimmered around the lean, muscular body like an invisible cloak. At the moment, the tall man standing beside him dressed in unrelieved black from his leather jacket and jeans down to his boots, was more Nakago than Nicholas…someone much darker and far more dangerous. Someone capable of killing without having to think twice about it.

The individual in question suddenly stiffened his posture, blonde eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

"What is it?" Keisuke asked, more sharply than he had intended.

Nicholas was staring at the building ahead, positive that he had felt a jolt of chi strong enough to wake the dead. Untrained and somewhat clumsy, it nonetheless had a unique quality that could only belong to the Suzaku no Miko. She was waiting for him. "She's here. I…felt her." In a way, it was reassuring…it meant that she was still alive. If they both made it out of this situation intact, he resolved to tutor her in the art of using and controlling chi.

"Listen, I never thought I'd ever hear myself saying this, but you've been good for my sister…I just wanted you to know, these past weeks…she's been happier than I've ever seen her, " Keisuke admitted gruffly, taking the opportunity to voice the words which weighed heavily on his mind. Despite the glaring differences between Miaka and Nicholas, they had managed to beat the odds. The Suzaku no Miko and her former worst enemy did not agree on a great number of issues most of the time, but when it came down to the things that really counted, like affirming the tempestuous bond they shared (and saving each other's asses in instances of extreme danger), he suspected that they communicated just fine. What's more, the conversations that went on between them did not always take the on the form of spoken words…not when one understood the other in a way that bordered on instinctive._ Their relationship is just plain weird by any standard, but somehow, it works for them. It isn't just romantic love…it goes far deeper than that. It's love, hate, joy, sadness… all the intense emotions a person can humanly feel, all rolled into one…_

"Go on, bring her back safely…" he softly added, slanting a sideways glance at Nicholas, "And be careful."

The blonde man said nothing, but then, Keisuke hadn't expected him to. However, to his immense surprise, Nicholas gave him a brief, barely discernible nod before turning away.

Keisuke blinked, and the moment passed. His hands clutched around the smooth leather-covered steering wheel. _Congratulations, Miaka-chan…you've managed to accomplish the impossible. Your love has turned an ice sculpture into a man.  
__

* * *

_

Once inside the building, Nicholas slowly expelled a breath, letting himself slip into the persona of a past life. _Focus._ _Do not allow your emotional involvement cloud your judgement, _the spirit of Kutou's general echoed in his mind. The shogun was a part of him, just as the Seiryuu seishi was…always present just below the surface of his consciousness.

When Nicholas' strength ran out, Nakago's power would protect her and the ones she loved.

The long corridor opened into a cavernous space the size of an aircraft hanger and lit only by the watery light filtering in through small, dust-fogged windows set into the high ceiling some seventy feet above. Dark shapes of abandoned equipment and industrial machinery loomed in the shadows, adding to the overall atmosphere of gloom. Not bothering to hide his presence, he moved towards the centre of the room where a square table stood, its surface illuminated by a single halogen reading lamp. He was sure that the arrangement was deliberate, but knew that he had to play whatever twisted game intended for him until the kidnapper decided to show up. Until then, he sincerely hoped that the two Suzaku seishi stuck to the agreed plan and stayed the hell out of his way.

As he drew alongside the table, he instantly understood the reason for the lamp. Scattered across the tabletop were dozens of photographs. Some were of Miaka and himself, others were of the Suzaku no Miko on her own, while yet others were of her with various other people…but the main subject of every one of them was always the same.

Miaka.

Evidently, the kidnapper had done his homework, and had been stalking the miko for at least a week before finally deciding to make a move. In order to avoid detection, the snapshots had been taken from a distance, by means of long-range zoom lenses. He skimmed over images of her emerging from a boutique with Yui in tow and of her laughing with the pop idol as they sat in a restaurant. The only thing which gave him pause was when he came upon a series of pictures depicting the kiss they had shared in his car the night they had met Saihitei. A flash of searing fury burned deep in the core of his being at the way his private moments with Miaka had been tainted by the enemy, turning them into something almost perverse. Nakago methodically suppressed the urge to destroy the photographs; allowing none of his thoughts to cross the composed appearance he was projecting… and refusing to give whoever was watching him the satisfaction of seeing him angry.

_Speaking of which…_He could sense the chi of the other person close by, tingling against his senses like a half-forgotten memory. _Familiar. _A frown almost succeeded in creasing his forehead as he tried to place the energy signature, but he caught it before it appeared. The last time he had felt this particular presence had been…

Casually propping a hip against the table, he folded his arms across his chest and turned his head a few degrees to his left. "Did I react the way you thought I would, Ashitare?" he asked aloud in a conversational voice, the enquiry amplified by the acoustics in the large enclosed space.

"I would have been disappointed if you had reacted any other way, Nakago-_sama._"

He watched with bland disinterest as a man stepped forward out of the darkness a few feet away. Black eyes met his own, accompanied by a cocky smile. The lamp light glinted off the object in his adversary's hand, which upon closer inspection, turned out to be a handgun.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly while focusing on his former servant's face, paying little heed to the weapon pointed directly at his heart. The scratches on the other man's cheek looked fresh. Miaka's doing, no doubt.

Ashitare's lips quirked into a full-fledged grin, "Somewhere safe. I never thought I'd see the day when the great Shogun would fall in love with a mere slip of a girl…And the Suzaku no Miko, of all people!" The dark-haired Seiryuu seishi seemed very confident, perhaps even excessively jovial.

Nakago did not move from his relaxed stance, nor did he confirm or reject Ashitare's statement.

"That good, is she? Is she as feisty in bed as she is out of it?" Ashitare winked conspiratorially at his former lord and master and continued without a pause, the lack of response on the blonde shogun's part going unnoticed. "You know, it's fate. I happened to be passing by the night you fought those drunkards. I did not ask for it, but all these memories just appeared out of nowhere. I remembered how it felt to die by your hand. Imagine my surprise when I saw that little passionate encounter between you and the Miko in the middle of the street! As you can see, I've been following her the last few days." The former wolf grinned lewdly as his gaze slid briefly to the photographs laying on the table, "It's obvious to anyone with eyes that you care for her, and the fact that she is the Suzaku no Miko is the icing on the cake. The perfect instrument for my revenge…you could say I'm killing two birds with one stone."

The blonde seishi slowly straightened to his full imposing height, pinning the other man with a hard crystalline stare, "You seem to enjoying hearing the sound of your own voice. If you are quite done, I suggest we get down to business. You have yet to answer my question," the emotionless voice lowered into a deadly whisper, "And I do not intend to repeat myself."

"You are not in a position to make any demands, but I'll tell you anyway. That miko has quite a temper on her, so I put her in one of the freezers to cool off. I reckon she's been there for oh, about two hours or so… " Ashitare took a few steps forward to stand next to a cylindrical object with a nozzle which had been left on the floor. Hoisting it up easily with his free hand, he kept the gun trained on Nakago with the other. There was a hissing sound as he thumbed a switch, like the rush of air escaping from a car tyre. An instant later, a flare of blindingly bright blue-white flame shot out of the tip of the nozzle. "Useful things, these oxy-acetylene torches…very good for welding doors shut. You won't be able to save her, Nakago. I've made sure of that." He made a show of slowly licking his lips, "By the way, she tastes like strawberries and cream…but I'm sure you already knew that."

Nakago went completely still.

He would make Ashitare pay for what the former wolf-man had done to Miaka, if it was the last thing he did. "Why did you ask me down here, if you intended to kill her anyway? You could have sent her back to me a piece at the time." The words were enunciated very precisely in a voice which lacked any trace of human emotion. In such situations, the battle-hardened warrior was far more effective than the sophisticated modern business executive. It was the business executive who loved the tiny Suzaku priestess, not the ruthless shogun, who had grudgingly accepted her as a friend (albeit an extremely annoying one). Given time, perhaps, the soldier might feel something more for the girl…if he could learn to love again. Perhaps. For the duration of this exercise, however, the shogun was in full control, and allowed himself to feel nothing except the determination to achieve the end goal. All sentimental feelings had been relegated to the back of his psyche the moment Nicholas had allowed his past self to take over.

Turning off the blow-torch, his enemy let out a short bark of laughter, "I see you haven't lost your taste for sadistic cruelty, Nakago-_sama. _That way would have been far too messy." Ashitare lazily lowered the barrel of the weapon until it was aimed at Nakago's right kneecap, " I'm not going to kill you… I want you to live your life, a pathetic cripple, and remember how you were unable to do anything as she froze to death. I want you to watch her life slip through your fingers the same way you watched mine." Thin lips twisted into a horribly self-satisfied smirk, "Most of all, I want you to know what it feels like to fail."

A chill wind swept through the large empty space, although there were no open windows where it could possibly have come from. Several photographs fluttered to the floor and the lamp flickered briefly. "Then I will have to disappoint you. I am not going to fail," Nakago stated calmly without even blinking. Seconds later, a surge of powerful chi flooded through the warehouse, shattering the glass in the windows high overhead.

The gun did not waver, "Nice parlour trick," Ashitare said disdainfully.

The corners of the blonde shogun's mouth lifted humourlessly. "You give me far too much credit. I am not given to such meaningless displays of power." Ice blue eyes looked past Ashitare at the two new shadows which had detached themselves from the surrounding murky darkness. Nakago directed a cool nod in their direction before his gaze refocused on the other Seiryuu seishi.

Face contorted with rage, Miaka's kidnapper spun, firing shots indiscriminately into the dark room until the bullet-chamber clicked hollowly. Empty…His second mistake. The first was turning his back on Nakago. Realisation came too late and as he whipped around, reaching into his pocket for a fresh clip to reload the gun. There was just enough time for him to register a flash of movement, as quick and deadly as a striking cobra.

Even without the benefit of his full powers, the blonde Seiryuu seishi moved with blurring speed. He had seen his opportunity and advanced on his opponent when he heard the last bullet leaving the gun. Before Ashitare could summon a counter-move, Nakago lashed out with his foot in a tight spinning kick, making contact with the other man's hand.

The gun slid across the smooth concrete floor and disappeared under a large section of rusted machinery.

"Don't think you have won yet!" The black-haired dragon seishi activated the blow-torch. Lunging towards his infuriating former leader, he brandished the dangerous tool, trying to sear flesh from bone with the white-hot flame.

It was a mixture of pure instinct, quick reflexes and luck that enabled Nakago to dodge the deadly flame, but the blast of heat caused sweat to bead on his face. The exposed skin tingled, as if he had just gotten a sunburn. The good thing was that his and Ashitare's positions on the battleground were now reversed…exactly what he had been waiting for. _Now, if only those two Suzaku idiots would just cooperate…_

As if on cue, Tamahome and Hotohori leapt forward to confront Miaka's kidnapper. They had managed to avoid the volley of bullets but had not appreciated being shot at. In truth, he was vaguely surprised that they had restrained themselves for as long as they had. While Hotohori struck high, improvising with a length of metal piping and wielding it like a sword; Tamahome, with his penchant for unarmed combat, went in low. Together, they drove the enemy back several metres, but did not manage to disarm him. To Nakago's critical eye, the reincarnated emperor's movements seemed stiff and lacking its former fluid grace. Much like himself when he first discovered that he still retained some of his powers, Suzaku's chosen swordsman was sadly out of practice. However, he was sure that Hotohori would reacquaint himself with the techniques soon enough. Swordfighting was like riding a bicycle…You never really forgot.

"Cold rooms are on the second floor, take the fourth left turn. We'll keep him off. Hurry!" Tamahome spoke rapidly in a hoarse undertone to Nakago as they passed each other. The strategy had been for them to enter undetected through the another entrance and act as backup if things got ugly. Apparently, they had done some reconnaissance as well. _Well done, _the shogun thought almost charitably. For once, the Suzaku seishi's irrepressible urge to snoop around would hopefully pay off. The tip would save him precious minutes of searching through the numerous corridors which snaked throughout the warehouse complex.

Dropping into another attack stance, Andy gracefully flipped his long hair back over his shoulder as he faced Ashitare, his handsome features set into a stony mask, "We're your opponents now…And we are going to exact some revenge of our own." Golden eyes narrowed into angry slits, "For Miaka, and for Nuriko."

Turning on his heel, Nakago began walking away from the battle now that the enemy was sufficiently occupied with the Suzaku seishi. He felt (as much as he allowed himself to feel) a certain sense of mounting urgency. The clock was ticking for Miaka, he could not afford waste any more time than he already had fighting. A bellow of pure hatred from behind him caused him to pause for a moment. The words coming from Ashitare were almost beyond even Nicholas' considerable linguistic talent, but he caught the gist of it from among all the expletives which were being hurled in his direction.

The blonde seishi did not bother facing the irate man, "Surely you did not expect me to play fairly. You forfeited that as soon as you used the Suzaku no Miko to get to me," Nakago's voice was cutting as he delivered the final vindictive taunt, "I do not see it fit to waste my time fighting you. You are beneath me. You were pathetic then…Nothing has changed."

A bloodcurdling howl, more wolf than human reverberated through the warehouse, but was promptly drowned out by sounds of a vicious no-holds barred fight as Ashitare tried to get past the miko's two knights in shining armour. Nakago did not feel the least bit guilty for using them as cannon fodder…fighting kept all of them busy (and thankfully out of his hair) while he sought out the priestess. Without a backward glance to see how his temporary team-mates (he used the term loosely) were faring, he swiftly ascended the metal stairs leading to the second level where the cold rooms were located.

He followed Tamahome's directions, swiftly moving down a seemingly endless corridor lined with heavy steel doors. Her chi would lead him to her. Connected to her thus, he could sense her life-force already fading. And for the first time in his life, Nakago followed his heart.

* * *

_Nakago…_

It was the faintest of whispers, but the last remnants of the special bond they had once shared enabled him to hear her with his soul. He stopped in front of a door. It looked identical to all the others, except for the fact that the edges and hinges had been tampered with. Even without the tell-tale signs, he would have known that she was inside. The thin, fragile thread that had led him unerringly to this particular door was disappearing, but Nakago was not ready to let go. For the sake of his reincarnated self, he had to save her. While his modern day alter-ego was by no means weak, Nicholas Raine would never forgive himself if she died. Again.

And the prospect of a life without her…

_…Is no life at all. _He grimly acknowledged her importance, although he disapproved of such closeness. Nakago and Nicholas were definitely at odds at the moment. The businessman's feelings—no matter how well hidden—were too close to the surface, and were colouring the shogun's perspective…Highly inconvenient and distracting, it was not something either of them could afford at this juncture. Reminding himself that he had a job to do, the blonde Seiryuu seishi resolutely slammed the lid on seething emotions which he refused to examine too closely and stood surveying the damage to the entrance of the cold room.

One look at the fused, twisted mass of metal confirmed that there was no way he was going to get the door open without blasting through it. That would require a massive amount of chi, and he was well aware that his powers were severely limited in the Mikos' world. Even so, there was no guarantee that the resulting explosion wouldn't kill Miaka.

_There must be an alternative_, he could feel the muscles in his back tensing as he rapidly weighed and discarded options, searching for one which would have the highest probability of success. There would only be one chance at this, and as he had told Ashitare earlier; he did not intend to fail. He reached out to touch the cold steel as an idea suddenly occurred to him. _A third road, one that does not require the use of brute force…_It had been so long that he had almost forgotten the teachings of a renowned scholar whom he had once studied under.

Flattening his palms against the door, he concentrated on calling his power forth. He felt the ebb and flow of it through his body. The metal under his hands began to glow an unearthly blue as he carefully weaved the chi into the very fabric of reality. It was fortunate that Nicholas had been discreetly practising with his powers without the Suzaku no Miko's knowledge after their run-in with the thugs on the pier. Miaka would have gone completely ballistic if she found out that he had regained much of his former mastery over his psychic capabilities.

In the background, he vaguely heard Saihitei shouting something—a warning?—followed by a loud crash of something being overturned. A violent swear word burst forth from the usually mild-mannered Taka…

The door felt solid under his fingers. _Just a little longer, _he willed the Suzaku no Miko to hold on.

In his mind, the image of a candle flame flickered and went out.

His hands sank through the obstacle as if the steel had suddenly turned into a rippling pool of liquid mercury. There was no time to feel triumph…He took the plunge, stepping through the aperture. Phasing through a solid object in this world was a disconcerting experience, especially since he did not have the benefit of _all_ his powers to protect him from the more nasty side-effects. His entire body felt sluggish, as though he'd just gone swimming in some sort of gelatinous glue. In the Book of the Four Gods, he could have simply teleported himself to where he wanted to go with a mere thought. It was regrettable that he was now reduced to doing things the hard (and distinctly unpleasant) way.

The first thing to register on his senses was the temperature. It was cold enough to literally freeze blood in its heated passage. Nakago spotted Miaka's small form, crumpled on the floor like a discarded rag doll. A ring of rapidly freezing water surrounded her. That explained the chi he had felt outside the warehouse…The little waif had managed to summon a psychic barrier to keep the worst of the chill at bay, and had held it for as long as she could. An average person would never have been able to do what she had…Something akin to admiration for the tiny Suzaku priestess rose in a heart which had long ceased to be impressed by anything. Her makeshift shield had probably kept her alive. However, it had also served to drain the last of her strength, and she was frighteningly pale. Her eyes were closed, enabling him to see the white frost already forming on her dark auburn lashes. Shrugging out of his jacket, he wrapped her tightly in the soft leather still warm from his own body, hoping to the gods that he wasn't too late.

They would have to leave the same way he'd come in: _Through_ six inches of steel door. It would be more complicated this time round because he would have to make some very precise adjustments during the phasing process in order to accommodate the Suzaku no Miko's presence and make sure that she got to the other side in one piece. There was no margin for error…the slightest miscalculation on his part would kill them both.

Cradling Miaka against his chest, the blonde shogun set about reworking a miracle.

* * *

Like the wolf he had once been, Ashitare fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal…unpredictable, and that made him dangerous. Taka wiped sweat out of his eyes with a shirt-sleeve, looking for an opening to attack. Both Hotohori and himself had been circling the enemy, but so far, the Seiryuu seishi had managed to fend them off with the blow-torch. He could see that his friend's immaculate hair had come loose from its ponytail and the ends had been singed…

The one-time narcissistic emperor looked livid enough to kill.

Gritting his teeth, Taka launched himself at the opponent the exact moment his fellow Suzaku seishi did the same. Ashitare spun around in a circle, the blow-torch roared, forcing the swordsman into a shallow dive to avoid the flames.

He collided with Ashitare, American-football-style, just as Andy hit the ground in a roll. Taka felt the edge of the flame sear the skin on the inside of his arm for a split-second. Distantly, he heard the pop star's alarmed yell, but couldn't make out the words over the furious pounding of his own heart. The next thing he knew, the momentum of his tackle sent them crashing through the nearby wooden table which had held the photographs of Miaka. His adversary twisted as they both went down, somehow managing to land on top of him.

Dazed from the stabbing pain shooting from the damaged nerves, the sharp curse was out of his mouth before he could stop himself as he instinctively clutched his left arm, feeling the burn already starting to blister. Ashitare pinned him to the floor amidst the wreckage, crouched on top of him like a carnivore about to rip out his jugular. Something dug into the centre of his chest, and Taka found himself looking into eyes gleaming with malice. Over the other man's shoulder he held his breath as he saw Hotohori approach stealthily.

The movement of his eyes must have given them away. Ashitare's thin mouth widened into an evil grin, "I know you are behind me, Hotohori of the Suzaku Seven…or should I address you as Your Majesty? I would advise you to back off, unless you want me to scorch a hole in your friend's chest." He pressed the nozzle of the torch harder over Taka's heart, his thumb resting on the switch. The slightest pressure would trigger it. "Did you think I would not recognise you? Tell me, _Tamahome_, why are you helping a man who has cheated you out of the Suzaku no Miko's love? Had it not been for him, she would still be yours. My quarrel is not with you…"

Taka felt a profound anger unfold within the depths of his soul. Anger at the sneering monster who was trying to turn him into a traitor; at Nakago, for winning Miaka's heart…At the small, dark part of himself which was actually tempted by Ashitare's unspoken offer.

But even the combination of anger, fear and desperation could not override the strongest emotion he had: The desire to always protect his Miko's happiness. It burned brighter, cleaner, than anything Ashitare could ever provoke. Just like his love for Miaka would always shine like a guiding star, even when all other lights went out…

In that moment, something changed.

A strange sensation thrummed through his body and concentrated in his hands, causing them to tingle. He acted without having to think, shoving his palms against the wolf-man. Jet-black eyes widened with dawning realization.

An instant later, a fiery red ball of chi exploded between them.

* * *

After what had been the longest seconds of his life, Nakago found himself back in the corridor. He looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms. She was not out of danger yet…she had been so close to death. Her lips were tinged blue, and he could feel the cold emanating from her skin. There also was the possibility of frostbite, as well as other injuries not currently visible.

Starting back down the hallway, he noticed that the sounds of fighting had died down…which meant that either the Suzaku seishi had managed to subdue Ashitare or that the former wolf-man had killed them. Miaka's two heroic pets were too squeamish to kill Ashitare, even if they were being less than honourable by fighting tag-team against a lone opponent. He did not particularly care what issues the annoying twosome were bound to have about fair play…as long as Miaka was rescued and brought back safely, they could grumble and whine all they wanted.

The Suzaku seishi were tying a comatose man to the metal handrails at the foot of the stairs when Nakago descended from the walkway on the second level. He lifted an eyebrow at their dishevelled appearance…the pop idol's long hair had come loose and stuck out in random directions, while the college sophomore appeared to be nursing a rather large burn on his forearm.

Taka seemed to examine his own hands quizzically, "I distracted him long enough for Hotohori-san to bean him with the metal pipe…" he offered by way of explanation. He peered up at the blonde shogun, his expression hidden by a tangle of dark hair, "Is she...?"

"Alive. Get her to the hospital," Nakago commanded, unloading the Miko into Saihitei's waiting arms. The emperor visibly bridled at being ordered about, but one look at Miaka was sufficient to silence any protests. Instead, he merely nodded and set off towards the entrance at a fast walk, taking care not jostle the precious burden in his care.

A few measured paces brought the former Seiryuu leader close enough to tower over Ashitare's battered form. Cold silver-blue eyes assessed the prisoner tied securely to the railings. "Go with them," Nakago said evenly, not turning to look at the Suzaku seishi who still remained behind. It wasn't a request.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" Tamahome's voice was steady for someone who had to be in immense pain from a second-degree burn.

When no reply was forthcoming, Taka took it as an affirmative and persisted, "Miaka would not want that, and I'm trusting you to do the right thing."

The naivety of his reincarnated arch-enemy's statement severely tested whatever little patience Nakago had left. He turned his head slightly to pin the violet-eyed university undergraduate with a hard look. "Surely you can't be saying that you trust me. If you are, then your trust is misplaced." The blonde man's voice betrayed nothing except a sense of forbidding finality. "Do not attempt to pin your paltry Suzaku honour on me. Ashitare will continue targeting her. I will not allow that. It ends here."

"Don't misunderstand, I did not say I trusted _you…"_ Taka explained carefully, "I meant that I trusted you not to disappoint Miaka by returning to her with blood on your hands." His gaze flicked to Ashitare before returning to bravely meet the shogun's unnerving silver stare, "Even if it's the blood of someone who has caused her harm."

With that, the younger man turned on his heel and started towards the entrance, leaving Nakago alone with the defeated enemy.

The shogun considered the Suzaku boy's parting words for a moment, swiftly deciphering the hidden meanings. _Someone who has caused her harm, indeed. _Tamahome had been hinting at all the crimes Nakago himself had committed against the Suzaku no Miko, and yet…she had forgiven him unconditionally.

It was a touching sentiment, but he also had to be practical…He could not let Ashitare off when he knew the revenge-driven seishi would endanger Miaka and the people around her. Eyes narrowed, he analysed this conundrum from several angles. How could he ensure that Ashitare no longer posed a threat without committing murder? It seemed unlikely that the man would simply forget his grudge just because his first attempt had been foiled—..._Forget…of course. _Tactically, it was not the fail-proof solution he had been looking for, but it would have to suffice.

Dropping to one knee so that he was at eye-level with the unconscious man, Nakago placed his hand over the other Seiryuu seishi's face, each of his fingertips pressing firmly into a Katra point. With his free hand, he drew out the blue earring which had been safely stowed in his pocket, folding his fingers around the small object. This innocuous piece of jewellery held far more significance than Ashitare had guessed, he thought wryly, making a mental note to ask Miaka how it had come into her possession. He recalled giving it to the Seiryuu no Miko just before she had returned to this world from inside the Book of the Four Gods…

Bracing himself for the task ahead, he closed his eyes and controlled his breathing. Next, he emptied his mind of all thoughts and emotions, until it was but a blank canvas. The earring grew warm in his palm as it became a prism for channelling his chi; enhancing and focusing his power into the tightly-banded frequency he required for what he was about to do.

His heartbeat slowed.

Time stopped.

Without any warning, Nakago delved unceremoniously into the other man's consciousness with all the finesse of a sumo wrestler leaping into a children's wading pool. It had been a while since he had last done something similar, and Tamahome had been under the added influence of the mind-altering Kodoku at the time. Furthermore, he was not terribly concerned about making it pleasant for his former servant…

…Assuming that Ashitare would be sane enough to even remember his own name once Nakago was through with him.

* * *

Notes:

1) Hope all of you liked this chapter. Yes, I know it was a long time coming…it was a fiendishly difficult chapter to write, but I enjoyed it immensely.

2) I couldn't resist exploring the line which separates Nakago and Nicholas. Where does Nicholas end and Nakago begin? Miaka does not make any distinction between them (indicating her complete forgiveness and acceptance of him, past _and_ present). However, I prefer to see Nakago as not so much a separate personality, but simply the more ruthless side of Nicholas, anchored by the same soul.

3) Yep, in this story, Ashitare is an attractive, smart-talking and very twisted man. He still retains some wolf-like tendencies, but thankfully not of the peeing-on-a-tree variety.


	8. Past Perfect Tense

**Chapter 8 : Past Perfect Tense**

Nicholas passed a hand over his eyes with equal parts of tiredness, worry and irritation. Hospital chairs, he had long since come to conclude, had been designed with midgets in mind. He felt curiously numb, both physical and mental exhaustion already taking a heavy toll. The countless cups of insipid coffee he had consumed over the last few hours were not helping either. Daylight was already fading, leading him to recall that he had not eaten anything substantial since dinner the previous day. As Miaka had so colourfully pointed out, he probably wasn't doing his digestive system any favours by ingesting so much caffeine on an empty stomach.

Still, it really could not be helped. He was here for _her_. _Because of her. _

Another thing was that he hated their current situation. Hated waiting for answers, being unable to influence the outcome and disliked hospitals in general. There had been a woman once; someone whom he had believed himself to be…in love with. Blessed with long hair the colour of a glossy raven's wing and vivid blue eyes thanks to her welsh ancestry, Adrienne had been as smart as she was beautiful. At the time, she'd been everything he had thought he wanted in a partner. They'd even talked about getting officially engaged after graduation. However, it was not to be…One night, just four days before the end of the semester, she had collapsed from a severe pain in her side. The infection from the ruptured appendix had spread too fast for the doctors to do anything. He had been there when the last whisper of breath had left her lips. In that moment, it had felt as if a part of him had died with her. He had closed off whatever was left of his heart then, determined not to allow himself to be hurt so deeply again.

After her death, he often heard her voice in his mind, making the funny, pithy and thoroughly irreverent little remarks she'd been so fond of while alive. With a jolt, he realised that she had not featured in his thoughts for a while…not since the day a petite russet-haired dynamo with huge hazel eyes had skidded round a corner at high speed and unceremoniously collided with him.

_You were too busy trying to convince yourself how much you **didn't** care for the dear girl to think about little old me, _Adrienne's voice, with its lilting welsh accent, was liberally laced with good-natured humour. _She's sweet and so very brave. I think I like her. _

He leaned into the hard plastic of the hospital chair and rested the back of his head against the wall behind him. _You would. Playing matchmaker again, Adrienne? _he thought absently, keeping his vision trained on the closed door of the room where the doctors were still treating the Suzaku no Miko. _You were a menace, woman. Your little matchmaking 'projects' rarely worked out. Some of your victims still refuse to speak to each other. And you've been dead for a long time…_He allowed the sentence to go unfinished, _No offense._

_None taken, Nick…and it's time you remembered that YOU are still alive. Long past time. You've finally found someone whom you can care for, after all these years…You really had me worried for a while there. _The calming cadence of her words drifted across his consciousness, soothing nerves stretched taut with tension. She'd always insisted on using the abbreviated version of his name…Few people had the nerve to address him with such familiarity, partly because of his family background but mostly due to his own intimidating presence. But of course, Adrienne had been a law unto herself. It was probably one of the things which had first attracted him to her. Like Miaka, she had been a breath of fresh air in his closed existence. And like Miaka, she had also been trouble personified. He had first met her in front of the university's administration building, leading a protest for student rights…an endeavour which had almost gotten her expelled.

Her voice faded, as did the memory of her lying so pale and still in a hospital bed. He had both respected her and cared about her deeply, yet now he wondered whether he had ever truly loved her. They had liked each other very much and felt at ease in each other's company, often simply talking late into the night, discussing everything under the sun; politics, the economy, Darwin's theory, Voltaire, the benefits of long-term pineapple consumption…No topic was sacred, or safe, for that matter.

And then, there were the times when there had been no need for words as they'd made love into the early hours of the morning…

Yet, he could not recall being as possessive of the statuesque raven-haired beauty as he was with Miaka. Nor had he ever experienced the same depth and breadth of feeling, or the fierce protectiveness that he felt for the pint-sized Suzaku priestess. And therein lay the truth: They had laughed…and they had loved, but at the end of the day, Adrienne had been his friend, his equal. Independent and full of dry wit, a female version of himself in many ways. By contrast, Miaka was the exact opposite of him. It has hard to explain, but they somehow _fitted_ despite all their differencesShe was the warmth to his coldness, the bright and sweet innocence which served to balance out his hard ruthless nature.

"Nicholas? Thought that you might like something to eat—"

Keisuke broke off sharply and stared at the tall _gaijin_ seated before him, the cellophane wrapped sandwich in his hand almost forgotten. He'd just walked right up to one of the greatest warriors the Universe of the Four Gods had ever seen, and the man had not even seemed to notice his presence. He would have given his left arm to know what was going on in the other man's mind. Lost in thought, the impassive mask had slipped slightly, allowing Keisuke a glimpse of the bone-deep weariness reflected in eyes which had turned a pale grey which matched the dull colour scheme of the hospital walls. More than anything, it served to remind him of the fact that despite all that Nicholas was, past and present, the former shogun was still only human.

Earlier, he had remained behind, waiting for the Seiryuu seishi to emerge from the warehouse while Taka and Hotohori had rushed on ahead, taking Miaka to the hospital in Tetsuya's car. When Nicholas had finally appeared, Keisuke had taken one look at the shuttered non-expression on the blonde man's face and proceeded to vacate the driver's seat post-haste. Over three hours had since passed, and a talk with Taka revealed what had transpired inside the building. Large pieces of the story were still missing, like how the shogun had managed to get Miaka out of a metal freezer which had been sealed tighter than a new bottle of champagne, and how he had chosen to deal with Ashitare after Taka had left.

He wanted to ask if Ashitare was dead, if Nakago had killed the former wolf-man, but could not seem to find a graceful way to phrase it. '_So, how did you dispose of the body?'_ seemed a tad bit tasteless given the circumstances.

"Guilty as I am of many things, murder is not one of them. At least not in this lifetime."

He started at the bland statement, and could only come up with an intelligent "Huh?" Eyeing the erstwhile Seiryuu seishi, he once again caught himself suspecting that mind-reading might just be one of the powers which Nakago had conveniently forgotten to tell them about, along with the ability to teleport in and out of sealed rooms, apparently.

After a pause, the handsome features arranged themselves into a cold, somewhat morbid smirk, "You were dying to know, were you not? Your eyes spelled out the question as clearly as if it were tattooed on your forehead. You are very like your sister…It is laughably easy to read your thoughts."

Sputtering indignantly at the unspeakably arrogant comment, Keisuke aimed a glare at Miaka's not-so-noble rescuer. _Kami-sama, sometimes I feel like strangling him! _Getting information from Nakago—or Nicholas—was an excruciating experience, rather like pulling wisdom teeth with a few insults thrown in for good measure. Assuming the blonde man deigned to answer at all. "Just one question. If you didn't kill him, then what _did_ you do to Ashitare?" he asked, suppressing a shudder when it occurred to him that Nakago was not particularly known to be merciful. "You didn't maim him, did you?"

"That's two questions."

_Not so much as a smidgen of guilt_…_either he really doesn't have a conscience or else he's damned good at pretending that he doesn't! _Belatedly remembering the sandwich he'd brought, he thrust it at the blonde man, wondering why he'd even bothered in the first place. _Because, Einstein, you've gotten used to the idea of the insufferable bastard being a permanent fixture in Miaka's life, _another part of his mind pointed out matter-of-factly. "Darn, there go my aspirations to be a famous mathematician! And I think you missed your true calling…You should have been a lawyer!" Miaka's brother bit out sarcastically, before throwing up his hands in frustration and dropping sullenly into a moulded white plastic torture device–otherwise known as a hospital chair—identical to the one Nicholas was currently stretched out on.

Nicholas accepted the food with a lifting of an eyebrow, thankful that Keisuke at least knew him well enough not to infringe on his personal space. Instead, the brown-haired man was slouched two seats down from him. He found himself disposed to think favourably of Keisuke, and not just because he was the Suzaku no Miko's elder sibling either. Both brother and sister shared the same qualities of trustworthiness, forthrightness and honesty…although no one could accuse Nicholas of being any of the above; he valued the traits in others. Once upon a time, he would have seen them as weaknesses to be exploited, but never again. The love of one small hazel-eyed priestess had changed him more than she would ever know.

"I sealed his memories. He will not remember anything of his past life," he said more sharply than he would have liked, the tone of his voice warning Keisuke to cease this particular line of questioning. Nicholas felt his muscles bunching and looked down at his clenched fist, mildly surprised at the automatic reflex. During his foray through his fellow seishi's mind, he'd seen the miserable existence that the former wolf-man had endured as a circus freak, only to be 'rescued' and made to obey the orders of a brutal and unforgiving master. The overwhelming sense of betrayal and anger which he found at the core of Ashitare's psyche had been spreading like a virus, sending out far-reaching tendrils, corrupting almost everything they came into contact with. Deleting an entire lifetime of memories would have taken a great deal more time and power than he could spare…furthermore, the hatred was so deeply rooted that excising it would cause permanent mental damage.

Not that the notion of destroying Ashitare's mind hadn't held serious appeal. Oh, he had been tempted despite the consequences…

Instead, he had reluctantly imposed his own will on the sinister glowing orbs streaking past him, forcing them to converge together. Each pulsating, sickly-yellow sphere represented a poisoned thought, idea or memory of life in the Shijintenchisho. Caging them with shimmering blue bands of psychic power, he made sure to reinforce the binds a hundred times over. Without the incriminating memories to feed it, he hoped that the hatred would die off naturally…but he was not one to leave things entirely to chance; carefully inserting a powerful hypnotic suggestion into the other seishi's sub-conscious as a fail-safe. The moment the reincarnated wolf seishi attempted to access any memories connected to the Universe of the Four Gods, his mind would shut down and he would black out for a few minutes.

He'd exited Ashitare's mind as forcefully as he had entered it. Getting Miaka out of the cold room had already drained most of his energy, and the longer he spent immersed in the other man's mind, the more likely that he would lose himself as well. Nicholas would never forget the look of stark terror etched on the unconscious features; way his former servant's mouth had opened in a silent scream as a part of his identity was shut away forever.

_Abruptly releasing the pressure he had been exerting on the Ashitare's katra points, he stood stiffly, walking over to the photographs of Miaka scattered on the floor and began collecting them, making sure that not a single one remained. He closed his eyes, directing one last burst of chi to incinerate the evidence. The ashes slipped through his fingers and drifted to the floor. Opening his eyes, he spared the other Seiryuu seishi a final glance, "Forget," he said tonelessly into the echoing stillness before departing without looking back. _

The other Seiryuu seishi would eventually come round with a vague memory of being mugged in an alley and being knocked out. It was an utterly believable lie, planted in Ashitare's mind to conveniently explain away the reason for waking up in an abandoned warehouse.

Rape…_A rape of the mind, _Nicholas suppressed a grimace of distaste. It was an apt description of what he had done to the wolf-man. Just one more sin to add to the already long list. He idly wondered if he would ever be completely absolved. He knew for certain, however, that the one person who could save him currently lay behind the door across the hallway, being treated by a team of doctors. Losing her once, that time in Kutou, had been an exceedingly painful lesson in guilt and regret…one which he had no desire to repeat. To go through that a second time would most likely kill him, if not in body then in soul. The decision he calmly proceeded to make would probably meet with strong opposition from just about every single person they knew, not that he really cared, since the only consent he needed was hers.

He would accept whatever happiness he could find with her.

If she would have him.

He thought he caught the smoky hint of Adrienne's throaty laughter in the distance.

_Took you long enough, Nick. And about bloody time too…I always did like seeing you in a tux. _

* * *

Taiitsukun eyed the red-haired god, "You weren't supposed to intervene, you know. It's against the rules." She liked Miaka more than the average miko, and the poor girl _did_ deserve some sort of happiness after all the sacrifices she had made and hardships she'd endured, but still…rules were rules, and they were obviously there for a reason… 

"Destiny would be rather hard to fulfil if she ended up dead. You know how upset the Fates get when things do not go according to plan," Suzaku stated dryly. Perhaps '_upset_' was a bit of an understatement. The last time the Fates had been thwarted, their displeasure had resulted in a massive volcanic eruption which had buried an entire Roman city and all its inhabitants in 79 A.D. "I did nothing except remind her to use the power which she already possessed. It kept her alive long enough for him to get to her."

"Pfffft…" the immortal being who presided over the Universe of the Four Gods did not sound convinced, and demonstrated her scepticism accordingly with a rather childish noise. "Nevertheless, you seem to be inordinately interested in them. The other gods don't keep track of their mikos' lives once the summoning is over, much less the rival seishi of another god." She was well aware that Suzaku had what could be considered a rough equivalent to a soft spot for its current miko. Of the four gods, it was by far the most human.

The winged deity regarded her with an air of nonchalance, and Taiitsukun was fairly certain that if Suzaku seikun had been a mortal man, it would have shrugged. "The other gods do not have a miko like Miaka."

_My current Miko holds the rare distinction of summoning me not once, but twice. Not only do I have a special bond with her, but I am also the god who represents love in all its forms. Therefore, you could say I have a vested interest in her welfare. What Miaka has with Seiryuu's champion is not something that one encounters in every millennium. Theirs is a love without boundaries. For all his considerable intellect, Nicholas does not even realise it himself…but what he feels for her transcends every level that exists, in a way which defies human description._

Suzaku had suddenly taken on his 'true' form of a large, majestic bird and was speaking telepathically. It was a deliberate gesture on the beast god's part, since turning into an animal in the middle of a civilised conversation was considered to be rude.

Taiitsukun's face creased into a truly hideous scowl, a sight which would have caused fresh milk to curdle. "He sure has hell of a way of showing it," she grumbled aloud.

Ignoring her comment, the phoenix wore an enigmatic look of serene complacency as it calmly perched on a high ledge preening its shimmering red-gold feathers. _He hides it well, but he is as much hers, as she is his. More than soul mates…they are cosmic mates, tied irrevocably to each other. They embody the divine balance of Yin and Yang, Male and Female, the Dragon and the Phoenix. He will always be where she is, in one form or another…as the enemy who cannot bring himself to destroy her even if it means certain victory; as the friend who would sacrifice his own life to protect hers, or as the man who loves her with all his soul._

* * *

If aught must be lost, it will be my honour for yours.  
If one must be forsaken, it will be my soul for yours.  
Should death come anon, it will be my life for yours.  
I am **_Given_**. 

— Druid binding vows, _Karen Marie Moning_

He stood by her bedside, looking down at her small heart-shaped face. With her petite form shrouded in the sterile white of hospital sheets; a myriad of tubes and wires connecting her to various machines, she looked impossibly fragile. The room was silent, except for the heart monitor beeping steadily in the background. His eyes traced the long plastic tubing which snaked from a clear bag hanging on a metal pole, to the pale hand currently resting limply on top of the sheets, and noted that the place where the needle pierced her skin was beginning to bruise badly.

Reaching down, he gently cradled her hand in his, careful not to dislodge the IV line which was keeping her hydrated and delivered nutrients into her body. Frowning, he lightly brushed the edge of the bruise, making a mental note to ask the doctor if there was anything that could be done about it.

Close to sixteen days had passed since she had been brought here, and she had not regained consciousness. Her family and friends grew more worried as time went by, fuelled by fears that the longer she remained under, the more likely that she would never wake up. The doctors tried to reassure them; saying that her body had simply entered a self-induced regenerative coma in order to heal itself, nor did they think that there was any brain damage…

He had arranged for her to be moved to a private room, a task easily accomplished since money was not an issue for him. While the pop star had finally been forced to fly back to China due to the demands of his concert schedule (though he had vowed to return in a few days) and Tamahome had reluctantly left for Singapore on his student exchange programme, both the Suzaku seishi had extracted promises from Miaka's brother to keep them updated of her condition. Her family, Yui, and sometimes Tetsuya, sat with her whenever they could, reading aloud or holding one-sided conversations with her, convinced that she could somehow hear them. Her eighteenth birthday had come and gone, and they'd even brought presents for her...They were such a close-knit group and there was much to admire about that, he supposed. Keisuke had introduced him to Mrs Yuuki, but the woman had been too distraught at the time to say much, except to thank him for his kindness and generosity at being her daughter's benefactor. He had merely nodded, deciding not to divulge his true relationship with Miaka, and steadfastly ignored the look of disappointment on Keisuke's face. Despite what Miaka's older brother thought, it had been neither the right time nor place to tell a frantic parent about her daughter's romantic involvement with an older man. And a foreigner at that.

Besides, his actions had very little to do with generosity. He was merely safe-guarding what was his.

Nicholas glanced at the clock on the far wall, noting the time as he exhaled soundlessly. Slowly, he started to ease his chi into her through the connection of their joined hands…as he had been doing every night. His life-force was augmenting her own, which at present, was frighteningly weak…almost non-existent. He had to be infinitely careful; too much too fast would send her body deeper into shock. The others probably had their suspicions about his nocturnal visits but had yet to confront him, since he avoided coming here when they were present. What he was doing for her was…personal, and he had no desire for an audience.

His attention drifted to her mouth, and he wondered if sleeping beauty would indeed awaken if he kissed her. Heaven knew, they'd lived through adventures far stranger than any fairytale the Grimm brothers could ever have cooked up.

* * *

Dr. Akiyama Reiko was doing her usual late night rounds. Her shift had been relatively uneventful tonight, and for that, she was grateful. She decided to check in on the patient at the end of the hall, a young woman by the name of Yuuki Miaka, who was currently in a coma. News of this young woman dominated the hospital gossip circles at the moment, mostly because of the mysterious _gaijin_ who appeared by her bedside every night since she had been admitted. For once, the day-shift nurses were envious of their graveyard-shift counterparts. Word seemed to have gotten around that the patient's 'guardian angel' was sinfully gorgeous. Rumour also had it that he was also footing the hospital bill, private room and all. 

_Handsome **and** rich, lucky girl._

Entering the room, she checked the girl's vital signs and nodded to the man. He solemnly inclined his head in acknowledgement, but did not speak, as per the silent routine they had established over the last two weeks or so. _Now, if I were twenty years younger…and not happily married with two children. _He really was an excellent specimen of masculinity, she thought in amusement. Tall, blonde and blue-eyed, with a physique to match his chiselled good looks, just a glimpse of him would be sufficient to set female pulses fluttering. _Husband?_ she wondered, before recalling that the hospital records listed Ms Yuuki as single. She did not ask him, nor did he seem interested in telling her. _Lover?_ _Fiancé? _The woman in her found the entire idea of any man (especially one as attractive as this one) disregarding all hospital visitation rules to spend every night beside his beloved wildly romantic. The doctor in her, however…

Not that any of the nurses would deny him access to the patient. That would mean cutting off their source of eye-candy. Somehow, Reiko doubted that anyone would be able to stop him if he really wanted to get inside. An aura of danger and supreme self-confidence surrounded him like an invisible cloak, one that he wore easily and naturally. The rumour mill was having a field day guessing about the two of them, and some of the speculations were enough to make the more impressionable interns swoon…like the one casting them as sworn enemies who hated each other at first sight. As the story went, the cold, aloof man saves the girl—and the day—and falls in love with her in the process, but alas, the said girl is in a coma by the time he realises his feelings. Hence, he watches over her every night…_Oh please, this is the real world! Things like that don't happen to normal people! Sounds like a really lame anime! _the good doctor thought cynically.

"She is bruising."

Reiko looked up sharply from the flip chart on which she was recording her findings. The deep voice brushed against her senses like a _very _expensive vintage wine, and caused a strange tightening in her stomach. _Dear heaven, this one should come with a warning label attached: May cause dizziness and/or fainting. Do not take while operating machinery or driving. _She followed his gaze to the back of the girl's hand, locating the source of his observation.

She frowned, stepping closer to examine the site where the IV needle entered the vein, noticing that he made no move to relinquish his hold on Miaka. She pursed her lips together and met eyes the elusive colour of the silvery dawn on a winter's day. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do about it. Her skin is very delicate, and the capillaries just beneath the surface rupture easily. A salve might reduce the bruising a bit, but the drip needs to stay in until she wakes up." _Odd, I could have sworn that his eyes were blue…_

He accepted her explanation without so much as a blink. "Thank you," he said expressionlessly before turning his attention back to the tiny form lying on the bed, effectively terminating the conversation.

_Hmmm…not the chatty type, _she mused as she wrote out the prescription for an ointment on the chart. While she preferred to leave the personality profiling to her colleagues down in the psychiatric ward, she sensed that this one was an extremely complex man, capable of playing many roles. Yet, something in her knew that he was not an actor. His manner was far too dark and stoic for that. Had he been alive a few hundred years ago, Reiko imagined that his choice of profession would likely have been that of an assassin. Or a powerful military leader. Confusingly enough, the way he was holding the young woman's hand hinted at a gentleness that few men possessed in this day and age.

It was an oddly sweet gesture for someone who seemed so remote. She had seen him do exactly the same thing for over two weeks, holding the patient's hand and simply looking at the pale, peaceful face for hours on end. He would always leave before the sun rose, only to return the following night. During the day, apparently, a constant stream of visitors would drop in, including one very famous—and dashingly handsome—celebrity, according to some very star-struck young nurses. Who was this girl, the doctor could not help but wonder, who inspired these two men to watch over her, one during the daylight hours and one by night? _She must be someone special, _Reiko decided after a moment.

Exiting the room, the physician turned her head to look back once more at the mismatched couple. From professional experience, she knew that coma patients often needed something that would motivate them to cross back over into consciousness once their bodies healed. _Wake up, Yuuki-san, _Reiko directed her thoughts at the pretty young woman who was obviously loved by so many people, _Because you've got a damned good reason waiting for you right here… _

* * *

The thick wisps of fog swirled around her, obscuring her surroundings. She should have felt cold and afraid in the darkness, but rather than being threatening, the fog enfolded her like a soft fleece blanket. Comforting and warm, she was reluctant to leave it for the _other _place. The place where she would feel pain. 

Abruptly, the opaque mist seemed to condense, becoming more solid and she felt it surround her like a lover. Miaka could now feel a distinct pair of arms around her, circling her ribcage. To her surprise, she realised that her back was in close contact with a broad chest. The man behind her was literally wrapped around her body like a second skin, so tightly that she could feel something pressed to her bottom. Instinct and a niggling suspicion compelled her to reach for him …

Her hand encountered the smooth contours of a naked male hip. The discovery that her hunky seducer was indeed wearing quite a bit less than what was considered polite (or decent, for that matter) caused her to blush furiously all the way down to her toes. Hot on the heels of _that _revelation was the realisation of exactly what it was that was so snugly wedged against her rear. She found herself vaguely surprised that the colour which burned her cheeks did not light up the surroundings like a street at high noon.

Warm breath fanned across her cheek, stirring a few stray strands of her hair. Heat practically rolled off him in waves, echoing the hot pulse of desire that had begun deep in her belly and was quickly making its way downwards. He didn't just hunger for her, she realised with fascinated feminine wonder, he _needed_ her. Despite the mystery of his identity, she knew that this man was not a stranger. There was a strong sense of trust and security, and the unwavering knowledge that he would not hurt her. But _who was he? _She searched her mind, trying to come up with a name and a face…however, the answer stubbornly eluded her. Nor was he making any effort to enlighten her…he had not made a single sound thus far. She tried to turn to look at him, but he would not allow it, keeping her in place by tightening his hold. Taking advantage of their positions, her unseen lover slowly began grinding his pelvis against her in a sensual rhythm, making his intentions blatantly clear.

Suddenly, she became very aware of the fact that she too, was naked as the day she had been born.

The pressure of the heavy ridge of velvety flesh nudging against her with every movement made her tremble with anticipation at what was to come. Her knees buckled, and she felt herself being supported in his arms. One strong hand splayed itself over her abdomen, his fingertips rubbing in arousing little circular motions; while the other slid between her legs, cupping her intimately. Her breath came out in a low shuddering sob as long fingers gently parted the swollen petals guarding the most secret part of her and explored the dewy wetness that her all-too-pliant body insisted on betraying itself with.

When the slightly rough pad of his thumb stroked across the aching bundle of nerves, Miaka thought that she was going to die from the tension centred there. A very indulgent, masculine chuckle greeted her ragged pants and pleading whimpers as she pressed herself against his palm, trying to find relief. To her immense frustration, he would not give her what she seemed to want so very desperately. Instead, he teased and touched her with an expertise which stole her breath. She was so close to the edge, just inches from the shimmering rainbow beyond…

….and then, four words were quietly spoken into her ear.

"Not until you remember."

His touch dissolved, breaking the spell and leaving her bereft. "Wait! Don't go!" Miaka spun around, calling out desperately into the void. She reached out towards the shadowy form, but her fingers only encountered empty air…

* * *

"I think she's regaining consciousness! Tetsuya, get the doctor quickly!" Keisuke almost fell off his chair with anxiety when he noticed Miaka's hand move, as if she were reaching out to grab hold of something. 

He was on his feet beside the bed instantly, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. "C'mon Miaka-chan, wake up! Please!" he murmured in a low voice, urging her back into consciousness.

Her fingers suddenly locked around his with surprising strength as her eyes snapped open, bright emerald green and unfocused. For a second, it looked like she was caught in some kind of dream.

"MIAKA!" Tetsuya and Yui burst into the room at the same time, accompanied by a doctor.

She froze, then blinked a few times. Awareness returned and she turned her head cautiously towards them, wincing at the audible sound of protest that her neck made. A frown appeared on her pale face as she stared at them in obvious confusion. "Onii-chan?" her voice emerged as a harsh croak. The doctor poured a glass of water from the pitcher resting on the bedside table, and brought it carefully to Miaka's lips, advising her to sip the water slowly and allow it to trickle down her throat. She did as she was told, letting the cool liquid soothe parched vocal chords as her heartbeat and blood pressure were recorded. Once the water was gone, she haltingly answered the doctor's questions on her physical and mental state. No, she was not hurting anywhere except for that awful crick in her neck. No, she did not have a headache. Yes, she could feel her fingers and toes (she wriggled them to demonstrate). And yes, she could remember her name (she looked offended that the doctor thought that she might somehow have forgotten it) as well as the names of the people in the room.

Once it was ascertained that Miaka was coherent, the sensei nodded briskly and departed, but not before sternly warning her not to overexert herself.

"Onii-chan and Tetsuya-san!" She wrinkled her nose at the antiseptic smell of the room before her eyes sought out her best friend. While the doctor had been around, she'd known better than to ask the questions which had surfaced in her mind. Surveying the other girl, a wide smile spread across her face. "Yui! Thank god you're not hurt! But how…?"

All three people at her bedside exchanged alarmed and puzzled looks with one another. Concern creased Yui's brow slightly and she moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, "What are you talking about, Miaka? Why would I be hurt?"

"You were being absorbed by Seiryuu! The battle…" her memories were rather fuzzy at the moment, but something seemed different about the Seiryuu no Miko. The sentence trailed off as she stared at her friend's shoulder length hair. Then, she seemed to shake herself, "Well, looks like we won! And Yui-chan, when did you grow out your hair?"

"Miaka…" it was Keisuke who spoke this time, his face looked paler than it had a minute ago, "What is the last thing you remember?" he finally asked slowly.

"I…" she turned to stare at the sun shining outside the window, struggling not to blush at the memory of the erotic dream she'd had. That had certainly felt real enough…Her brother and the others did not need to know about the embarrassing wet heat which even now, continued to throb between her thighs. Shifting guiltily, she willed herself to speak normally, "I remember we were downtown, and we ran into Nakago. He forced you to summon Seiryuu and use your last wish…I guess…" Hazel eyes focused on their faces in bewilderment, "He must have hurt me more seriously than I realised…but that's okay, because we won, didn't we? We must have beat him, or we wouldn't be here!" she exclaimed brightly, trying to disguise the sick anxiety churning in her stomach. Something was horribly wrong. Why was everyone looking at her like that? As if she'd just told them that she had some kind of terminal disease or something…

_WHAT THE HELL? That blonde Seiryuu bastard hurt her?_ "Nakago! Why, I'm gonna—Ow!" Keisuke snarled. However, his furious tirade was cut off when Yui discreetly kicked him hard in the shins. He glared at her, only subsiding when the Seiryuu no Miko shot him a meaningful look. The message was plainly evident: _Whatever Nakago did in the past was the least of their problems at the moment. _

_She has lost three years worth of memories! _"Don't worry, Miaka…" Yui interjected smoothly, plastering a smile on her face, "I'm fine and everyone's safe, thanks to you!" Pushing up the sleeve of her shirt, she showed her friend the smooth unblemished skin of her arm and said brightly, "See, no dragon scales!"

Miaka studied each of them in turn, searching for any signs that they were lying to her. However, just as she opened her mouth to say something, a matronly nurse bustled in and announced that the patient needed to take her medication and get cleaned up.

The people she considered nearest and dearest to her seemed ridiculously thankful for the untimely interruption. Miaka's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the three of them as they left the room, almost falling over each other in their hasty retreat. They were definitely hiding something from her. She could feel it clear down to the marrow of her bones.

_But what?_

She would find out, Miaka decided with fierce determination, even if it killed her.

* * *

Keisuke sunk onto a chair in the hallway outside Miaka's room, "This is not good," he groaned softly before he turned to regard the Seiryuu no Miko. "What did she mean when she said that Nakago must have hurt her more seriously than she realised?" The words came out in short staccato bursts, making the question sound clipped and abrupt. 

The priestess pursed her lips. The events from three years ago still brought on a surge of shame whenever she thought of how gullible and selfish she had been. She really would rather not talk about it, but knew that Keisuke and Tetsuya were not going to rest until they got an explanation. With a resigned sigh, Yui settled on the edge of a seat, bracing her elbows on her knees. "As you know, Nakago appeared in downtown Tokyo. There was only one wish from Seiryuu left…I had already promised it to him earlier when we were still inside the Shijintenchisho. As a reward." Her hair slid forward, hiding her face, "He said he had come to collect. He wanted Seiryuu to make him a god."

"Bloody megalomaniac…" The lanky dark-haired man beside her muttered, pulling off his aviator sunglasses.

She felt a comforting arm wrapping around her shoulders. Tetsuya's gaze met hers, silently conveying his support. Neither of them interrupted her again as she continued, "Miaka tried to stop him from bullying me into making that wish, but he trapped her inside a chi-barrier and used his powers to pelt her with rocks…" a shudder ran through her slender body as she remembered the horror she had felt then, "Back then, I don't think he would have stopped until he got his wish."

Miaka's older brother was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. "Damn! This is not good," he muttered once again.

"Amen to that," Tetsuya slotted in sarcastically, "We've established that the last thing Miaka remembers is Blondie being an unmitigated bastard who tried to kill her _three years ago_. She's going to majorly freak out when he shows up here." Firmly opposed to the relationship between his best friend's sister and the blonde Seiryuu seishi from the start, Tetsuya could not bring himself to sound dismayed at all, not even when he felt the heat of Yui's glare burning into him.

"Don't start," Keisuke retorted wearily. "Nicholas is not the same man as Nakago. We can't hold him responsible for what he did in his past life." Massaging his temples, he blew out a frustrated breath, "This is so unfair! Just when they've gotten together. She loves him…!" The words caught in his throat. Helplessly, he looked at his companions and knew that they had come to the same realisation as he had.

Yui's blue eyes were troubled as the full implications washed over them. "Not anymore," she said sadly.

* * *

Miaka was feeling exceedingly restless. The back of her hand hurt where they had taken out the IV needle. Yui, Keisuke and Tetsuya had come back in to sit with her after the nurse had left. They all seemed a little nervous and…preoccupied; shooting worried looks at each other when they thought she would not notice. 

This had to end. She would explode if she had to put up with another minute of it! Her gaze swung to her brother, pinning him where he stood, "Onii-san," her eyes narrowed dangerously, "I feel like the idiot who went to the washroom and missed a really important scene in the movie…would you care to enlighten me?" she asked sweetly. It wasn't a request.

"Well…erm…you see…" Keisuke blanched, looking remarkably like a deer caught in the glare of headlights. He cast a pleading glance at Yui and Tetsuya, but they seemed to be suddenly interested in the floor, studiously examining the tiles underfoot as if they held the directions to the Holy Grail.

"SPIT IT OUT, KEISUKE!" the furious russet haired miko bellowed.

_How do you tell someone that she's supposed to be in love with an arrogant former shogun who's supposed to be her mortal enemy? Say "Well gee, Miaka, you've forgotten three years of your life and by the way, your boyfriend who once tried to kill you will be turning up sometime later, so please try to fall in love with him again"?_ Somehow, he doubted that would go down well.

Gulping, he prepared to explain the very delicate situation to her when the door suddenly flew open.

Andy rushed in and swept her into a tight hug. Burying his handsome face in her hair, he murmured, "I came straight from the airport. The nurse at the counter outside told me you had just woken up…" When she did not respond, he slowly pulled back and studied her face. The crystalline tears that were welling up in her beautiful eyes distressed him. He cupped her cheek tenderly, "Miaka…what's wrong? Please don't cry!"

She stared mutely at him, her lower lip trembling, "Hotohori…?" she whispered, hesitantly lifting her hand to touch a long strand of his hair before she threw her arms around him and began to weep. Her words were muffled and punctuated by quiet sniffles, but he was able to make out the fact that she was not sad. Her tears were those of joy and disbelief…she had thought him dead, lost to her forever.

_Dead? _Why would she think that he was dead? Andy cautiously wrapped his arms around her, sending a concerned look to Keisuke over the top of her head. Her brother's face was tight with worry, as was Yui's and Tetsuya's. Instinctively, he rubbed her back soothingly, reassuring her of his presence. It wasn't until he felt her breath, warm against the side of his throat that he realised that she was resting her chin on his shoulder.

"You kept your promise," he heard her say softly. "Do you remember? You told me that we would be together again; beyond worlds, beyond time, beyond life…You said that we will all surely meet again someday. And here you are…" He sensed the tremor in her voice, even as his confusion at her odd greeting seeped to the surface. The raw intensity of her underlying pain, although she tried to hide it, cut deeply into him. Like a recent wound which had not quite healed, she was still hurting. The way she was acting…

It was as if she had just witnessed his ill-fated confrontation with Nakago.

Everything clicked into place. He remembered saying those words to her. His dying vow to her a lifetime ago. _Dear Suzaku, that means that…_ Suddenly, it all made sense. He was so caught up in the shock of his discovery that he almost missed the soft click of the door knob turning behind him.

Her reaction was almost instantaneous. Andy felt every muscle in her body tense before she fairly leaped out of his embrace and onto her feet in front of the bed, waves of alarm, fear and hostility radiating from every pore.

"Minna, get out of this room. Run as far and as fast as you can," the Suzaku no Miko commanded in a soft but steely undertone, never taking her gaze off the person who had just entered.

"Miaka—" Keisuke began earnestly, taking a step towards her.

"Go!" she hissed at them urgently, unsteadily drawing herself to her full height. Positioning her body like a shield, she stood protectively between Hotohori and the intruder. Her fists were clenched so tightly that the veins showed in sharp relief against her pale skin. "I won't let you hurt them!" she declared aloud, determination apparent in the rigid, ramrod straight line of her back.

To their amazement, an aura of shimmering chi rippled around Miaka's form. The Seiryuu no Miko's eyes widened, "Oh shit!" Yui was not generally given to swearing, but decided the situation merited it as she hastily grabbed both the gaping bystanders beside her, dragging them out of the way.

With a snarl of deadly intent and even deadlier aim, Suzaku's chosen priestess let loose a violent surge of lilac-tinged energy at the blonde man standing not five feet away from her.

* * *

Notes: 

1) A big thank you to all the people who waited so patiently for this chapter, who provided insightful comments, helpful ideas and angry emails telling me to 'get off my ass and write something'. I hope I did not disappoint.

2) I wanted to create a little more of a past for Nicholas by introducing the idea of an ex-girlfriend whom he cared for deeply and who _isn't_ Soi. Before this point, he refers to all his previous relationships in very general terms with no specific names mentioned. I wanted to make Adrienne special to Nicholas, someone whose memory he held close to his heart. To that end, Adrienne had to be intelligent, beautiful and just a little out of the ordinary. I personally loved the idea of her smart-mouthed commentary haunting his thoughts even after she's gone!

3) The issue of long-term pineapple consumption is scientifically proven. Let's just say it alters the taste and smell of certain bodily fluids…

4) I'm treading on some unknown territory here with the inclusion of _that _scene. Yep, I am sure everyone knows which one I'm talking about. My first overtly sexual scene _ever_…haven't written one of those before. My apologies if it offends anyone, unfortunately, it's crucial to the plot, or it wouldn't be here at all (_Liar, Liar, Pants on fire_)… I was aiming for tasteful, and I'd really like to know what you guys think!

5) The colour of Miaka's chi energy is significant. Anyone want to guess why it's not Suzaku red?


	9. Control Alternate Delete

**Chapter 9 : Control Alternate Delete**

The blast was surprisingly powerful, he noted grimly, as it was absorbed into his own hastily constructed psychic barrier with a deceptively mild electrical crackle. Had it hit him full on, it would probably have blown him across the hallway and halfway through the opposite wall.

But of course, it had every right be…a good percentage of the life-force which had made up Miaka's attack had been his. In fact, the reason he had come over to the hospital in the middle of the day when it was against his custom to do so was because he had _felt _her waking. The psychic bond between them was strong, since she had such a high concentration of his energy in her body.

Nicholas saw the fear and horror in the Miko's gaze an instant before her eyes rolled back into her head. He moved, instinctively prepared to catch her, but the pop idol whom she had misguidedly tried to protect beat him to it, grabbing the priestess around the waist as she toppled forward. Sending a wordless dark glare at him, the Suzaku seishi gently lifted the young woman and laid her back on the bed.

"That certainly went over well," Tetsuya drawled from one corner of the room with no small amount of irony, shattering the buzzing silence.

The sound of his friend's voice brought Keisuke out of his shocked daze. He shakily walked over to the bed and looked at Miaka as if aliens had kidnapped his sister and replaced her with a stranger. "What that hell was that…that _thing_ she flung at you? It was purple! It's not supposed to be purple!" The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could curb them, becoming progressively louder until he was almost shouting. It earned him a frosty glance from the erstwhile shogun before the blonde man turned to close the door securely against any prying eyes and ears. Keisuke bit down on his tongue, realising that he had been babbling and that his behaviour verged on hysterical.

Yui did not move from her place beside the bed where she had raced to Miaka's side when the other girl had collapsed, "Lilac," she corrected distractedly, a thoughtful frown etched on her delicate features. Her mind was racing, fitting clues into the puzzle. She knew that the colour of Miaka's chi was undoubtedly red, and that Nakago's was most definitely blue. Conversely, lilac, or purple, as Keisuke so crudely put it, would come about as a result of a merging of the two life-forces. _That would mean that she somehow had his chi inside her body…!_ The Seiryuu no Miko dismissed the first thought which occurred to her before she could even blush, for surely Nakago would not do such a thing to Miaka while she was unconscious, would he? _No! _she told herself fiercely, _he attempted that once in Hokkan and refused to go through with it. Not to mention that they were still enemies at the time. Now he cares about Miaka too much to risk hurting her like that…Not without her permission, at least._

If he had heard her or guessed her thoughts, he chose to give no indication. "Your concern for my welfare is overwhelming," Nicholas addressed Miaka's brother with dry sarcasm.

Keisuke reddened at the back-handed rebuke, "Sorry," he muttered through his teeth, assessing the aggravating blonde Seiryuu seishi critically, "You seem to have emerged unscathed as usual." Letting out a breath, he said defensively, "I have every right to be worried! Why is her chi purp—lilac? I'm sure you had something to do with it…" the accusation died on his lips when he saw the emotional shutters coming down in the other man's expression. All at once, he had the nasty feeling that he had blundered into something intensely private between his sister and the handsome _gaijin_ who seemed to care for no one but her.

"She was severely weakened. I simply transferred some of my life-force to her," the shogun's answer was succinct, confirming what everyone already knew and revealing nothing.

"That's it, isn't it?" The interruption caused everyone's attention to lock on the diminutive girl who had spoken. "You must have given her a huge amount of your own chi to help her heal. That was why the colour was different, and also why it was more blue than red," Yui whispered, awed by the staggering extent of emotion her most aloof seishi had betrayed through his actions. Emotions that she'd previously doubted him to be even capable of possessing. "I believe that Miaka would have called upon everything she had inside her to stop…a perceived threat. Except most of the chi she had wasn't even hers. But how did you…?" Despite all her self-assurances, she found it hard to look Nicholas in the eye.

"Not in the manner which you are thinking," he replied evenly. So he _had _guessed the ghastly suspicions which had floated through her mind. Unfortunately, it was impossible to tell whether he was offended or not.

Something in her one-time confidante's tone warned her not to push him any further. Shifting her focus to another more immediate concern, the dragon priestess took it upon herself to say what had to be said. The sooner it was out in open, the better. "I think you've probably figured it out already," her voice was weary, "She has amnesia. From what we can tell, the last thing she remembers is the battle downtown," Yui left him to deduce the implications, not wanting to resurrect the old ghosts that haunted both their pasts. "She has no recollection of what you have shared since then."

Nicholas closed his eyes, but it lasted barely longer than a blink. When he opened them again, she noticed that the irises were the palest blue imaginable. The bleakness which had appeared for a split-second was gone, replaced by an impenetrable mask which might well have been cast from reinforced concrete. Abruptly, she was worried about him, sensing him already starting to clam up like an oyster. God knew, he'd been through more than an ordinary man. How many times had he already been punished by fate for what he had done? How much of himself had he had to leave vulnerable before he could accept Miaka's love? _A love that does not exist anymore, so where does that leave him? _"Nicholas, I'm sorr—"

A soft moan from the prone form on the bed stopped her from finishing what she'd been about to say.

Hazel eyes slowly fluttered open, blearily focusing on the bevy of concerned faces hovering over her. "Itaiii…someone do me a favour and chop off my head…Wha-What happened? Did I get him?" she slurred as Andy helped her to sit up. She stiffened when she caught sight of her arch-nemesis, who still appeared to be unhurt and very much alive, "You!"

"I am not here to kill you, Suzaku no Miko. If only it were that simple…" the corners of his mouth curved coldly into a thin sardonic smile. "And try not to attack anyone else with chi which you cannot afford to waste." With that parting remark, the blonde Seiryuu seishi turned and quietly let himself out of the room.

She stared wide-eyed after him.

"That was Nakago, right?" she finally queried in an oddly calm voice.

Yui hesitated for a moment, "Well…Yeah," she said cautiously, not quite sure how to interpret Miaka's mood. Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Tetsuya and Keisuke slipping out the door to go after Nicholas.

"He was standing here, in this room." Again, in that funny tone of voice.

The Seiryuu no Miko nodded, wondering where Miaka's questions were leading. The other girl hadn't so much as blinked in the last minute or so. It was getting rather disconcerting…

"And we're still alive." Confusion had crept into the statement. Miaka was white as the sheets surrounding her, bewilderment written across her too-thin face.

_To tell or not to tell? _the sandy-haired priestess wondered, torn between wanting to reveal the truth and being tactful. Miaka had a right to know about her relationship with the leader of the Seiryuu shichi no seishi, but it would be exceedingly awkward to explain that while Andy was around. Besides, the Suzaku no Miko looked as if she had quite enough excitement for one day. Telling Miaka that she was supposed to be in love with her mortal enemy was likely to do more harm than good. _It's hardly my place to be the one to tell her…not when I only understand the most superficial of reasons why she chose Nicholas over Taka. _Nevertheless, Yui felt a completely unreasonable flash of irritation when the Suzaku swordsman silently moved to rest a comforting arm around the petite girl on the bed.

Shaking off her displeasure, she took her friend's hand. "And we're still alive," she confirmed with tiny—and she hoped, reassuring—smile, repeating the very same words Miaka had used. "Don't worry. Nakago won't hurt us anymore." Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, aware that Andy was watching her every move like a hawk, she decided that the best way was to tell Miaka an edited version of the truth without actually lying. "After the battle downtown, something happened…and he changed," she said gently, "He's on our side now."

Thankfully, the former emperor made no attempt to contradict her.

"Oh." It was all Miaka said before lapsing into an uncharacteristic silence, an unfathomable expression on her face.

"Miaka? Are you okay?" Yui exchanged a look with Konan's former emperor, who seemed just as perplexed at the strange way his miko was acting. It was far more disturbing than if Miaka had ranted and raved at the information, hotly arguing that one could never be _civil_ with _that_ accursed man, much less be _friends _with him. Her friend stared at her blankly for a second before seeming to realise that an answer was required. A small frown flitted across the pale heart-shaped face as Miaka appeared to delve into some long forgotten memory, trying to grasp it.

With a sense of impending doom, the dragon god's priestess fervently wished that she was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. It was precisely while she was in the process of mourning her stupidity for not escaping like Keisuke and Tetsuya when Miaka fixed her with a gaze as clear as a secluded forest lake.

"Where," the Suzaku no Miko asked slowly, "Is Tamahome?"

* * *

They caught up with him at the end of the long corridor leading to the elevators. At the sound of his name being called out, he halted and reluctantly turned to face them. The hallway was empty save for themselves. Although Nicholas did not particularly feel like talking to anyone at the moment, he knew that they would probably follow him and make a scene in a more public place if he did not confront them now. He was frustrated, an emotion he was not used to dealing with. And if he was honest with himself, the hurt which emanated from the very depths of his soul at Miaka's failure to remember what was between them had translated in an all-encompassing pain that almost brought him to his knees. He reined in the sensation, forcefully suppressing it enough to present a stoic appearance for the benefit of the two men who had come after him. 

"You should have stayed. We could have explained it to her. It might have jogged her memory." Keisuke said kindly, watching for chinks in the blonde shogun's impassive mask which would give him a clue as to what Nicholas was feeling. If the former Seiryuu seishi felt anything half as deep as what he suspected, the man had to be on the verge of complete breakdown. In fact, a stake through the heart might hurt less.

Eyes which were an arctic shade of blue-grey met his own, "My presence distresses her. I doubt she would appreciate your suggestion. And Keisuke," there was no flicker of any weakness in the patrician features, "I would prefer it if you refrained from telling your sister about her relationship with me."

"Why the hell not? She has to know! How can you just accept it like that and walk away?" Keisuke challenged in a burst of bravery, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at Nicholas. He refused to believe that the blonde man would give up on Miaka, just like that.

The doors to the elevator slid open.

"If she is meant to remember, she will," was all Nicholas was prepared to say before smoothly striding inside, pressing the button for the doors to close before Keisuke could follow.

"Kuso!" Keisuke pounded his fist against the nearest wall in righteous anger, "Bloody ice-cold baka! Someone should beat some sense into him! Now isn't the time to be fashionably aloof!" He would never understand how Nicholas' mind worked, and found it deeply troubling that the ex-general was acting in such a manner…it was as if he were distancing himself by pushing everyone else away.

"He has more honour than I thought," Tetsuya said suddenly after a few seconds, his forehead creased in a deep comtemplative frown.

Keisuke, who had slumped against the edge of an empty hospital bed which had been left in the hallway, looked up in astonishment, "Are you nuts? How on earth could leaving Miaka when she needs him most be honourable?"

Running a tired hand through hair which was already hopelessly mussed, Tetsuya explained, "Miaka made a conscious choice to be with him before all this happened. He wants her to choose him again on her own volition, for same reasons why she did so the first time around. If we say anything, she might be pressured into feeling that she _must _love him." As he paused to take a breath, he realised that a lot of his long-held perceptions had changed. Maybe it was seeing that Nicholas was not the evil schemer he had always imagined, or maybe it was the grudging admiration for the personal integrity the man had demonstrated; but his hostility towards the former shogun was beginning to dim significantly. "Love is not something you can force, Keisuke. Knowing Nicholas, he probably regards it as a test of some sort…your sister's feelings for him have to be totally genuine. I don't think he will accept anything less. He doesn't want her to love him just because she has been told that she should."

Keisuke stared at his friend in awe, amazed by the insight, "You figured this out in the ten seconds he deigned to talk to us?" Pushing himself upright, he started back up the corridor towards Miaka's room, "What do we do now?" he asked with a sigh, a note of resignation in his voice.

Tetsuya nodded in the direction of the elevator as he fell into step with Keisuke, "You heard Blondie. He doesn't want us to tell her, so we won't…She will have to remember that on her own. We'll just have to find other ways to help her regain her memory. Now hurry up, we've got to get back in there before Yui lets the cat out of the bag."

* * *

They arrived just in time to hear Miaka ask one of the many questions they were all dreading. "_Where is Tamahome?"_ was near the top of the list. There was no simple way to tell her without revealing Nakago's involvement, which seemed to be precisely what the Seiryuu seishi did not want. 

Surprisingly enough, it was the pop star who came to their rescue.

"Tamahome is called Taka now, just as my name in this time is Andy. We are both your friends, reincarnation has changed nothing about what we feel towards you," the Suzaku seishi murmured with so much sincerity that it could have been nothing except the the truth. "When you were first admitted into hospital, we took turns watching over you with your family. Unfortunately, Tamahome had to leave on a student exchange programme, but he promised to phone often."

His miko chewed on her lower lip as she absorbed the information, "Why don't I remember anything after the battle?" she asked after a few seconds.

"You had an…accident. It was all my fault! You see, I'm a musician, and you were attending my concert…" Andy began, his voice pitched soothingly. However, before the former emperor could continue, Keisuke jumped into the conversation and took control of it.

"…when you were kidnapped. The kidnapper locked you in a cold room. They rescued you before anything serious happened, but you have been unconscious for about two weeks. You seem to have a bit of amnesia," he explained carefully. _Talk about understatement! Losing three years is serious! _

Miaka's brows drew together in concentration, "They?" she whispered hesitantly.

Keisuke nodded, "Taka, Andy and…Nicholas." This time, he was prepared for her next question. Actually, he suspected she already knew the answer even as she opened her mouth to ask; understood that she was merely seeking confirmation. He nodded, "Yes, Nicholas is Nakago."

That was when the first cracks in her composure appeared. He knew how it must seem to her. In the mere half hour since she regained consciousness, her world had turned upside down. She had found out that all her beliefs no longer held true. A man whom she had long considered her enemy—the last she remembered, he had been trying to kill her and all her seishi, for heaven's sake! —was now apparently on…congenial terms with her friends and family, and she had no recollection of how such an unlikely phenomenon had come to pass.

"How long?" Her voice was barely audible. To everyone's collective horror, her slender body began to shake violently and tears trembled on her eyelashes. "How much have I forgotten? Tell me, onegai…" Miaka's fear and uncertainty vibrated through every word, painfully clear to anyone present.

It was a desperate plea Yui could not deny. Throwing herself forward, she wrapped both arms around her childhood best friend. "Three years. The battle downtown was three years ago," she said quietly, gently rocking the distraught girl back and forth on the bed in a comforting, maternal gesture. "There's no need to be afraid, Miaka-chan. The memories will come back to you…just give it some time. We'll always be around to help you. Don't worry…Shhhh…" The assurance was crooned softly, as if speaking to a small frightened child.

"What if…I never remember?"

Yui leaned back to take hold of Miaka's arms, forcing her friend to look straight at her. "You will," she said firmly with more confidence than she was actually feeling.

"And even if you don't…" the deep, melodic voice came from the golden-eyed man behind them, "We wouldn't hold it against you." Andy reached out an elegant hand to brush away the tear-dampened tendrils of russet hair which were clinging to Miaka's cheeks, his tender smile making him heart-stoppingly handsome. "The past is important, but there are always new memories to be made of tomorrow."

* * *

The next day saw Miaka being discharged from the hospital. There was no reason for her to stay any longer as she had healed completely. Miraculously well, in fact. Yui had little doubt that Nakago's potent life-force had played an instrumental part in her best friend's recovery. Broaching the subject on Miaka's amnesia had been difficult, but the doctors felt that Miaka would regain her lost memories more quickly in surroundings which were familiar to her. However, they had also advised that her friends and family not try to 'force' the process. Instead, they were to gently introduce objects, people or places to her, things which were significant, in hopes of unlocking the last three years in her mind. 

One of the first things Yui did when they reached the Yuuki residence was to look through the Shijintenchisho which was kept in a drawer in the study. To her immense dismay, the second half of the Book was completely blank. The sections chronicling Miaka's adventures with Nakago were gone as if they had never happened. _Like her memories,_ the Seiryuu no Miko thought in frustration as she flipped to the last printed page, already knowing what she would find. Her prediction proved accurate even though she had fervently hoped otherwise. Gingerly running her fingers over the paper, she noticed the way the characters seemed faded, the ink becoming lighter until she could no longer make out the words. Turning on the desk lamp to its brightest setting, she squinted at the last faint markings.

_Amidst the rubble of a damaged world, the mark of the Phoenix appeared on the Miko's forehead as the incantation was completed. With a single word, she commanded all the power of the god Suzaku…_

"Kaijin," she muttered to herself. The moment Miaka had summoned Suzaku to seal Seiryuu. The crucial turning point. _Of course. I should have guessed. _There was no longer any doubt that the Book of the Four Gods was truly a reflection of Miaka's missing memories. And her stubbornly taciturn seishi was not helping matters any, with his refusal to put himself forward as the one who had won the Suzaku no Miko's heart. Keisuke and Tetsuya had dragged her aside and told her about their conversation with the blonde man. Although she disagreed with Nicholas' stand on the issue, she could understand his point of view. To know that he cared for Miaka's happiness at the expense of his own touched her deeply, and she vowed to do everything in her power to ensure that they ended up together again.

Putting the manuscript down, she sighed and wondered how they would overcome this latest obstacle. On top of that, the school exams were approaching. Miaka's loss of memory meant that whatever she had learnt in the last three years was probably gone. Somehow, they had to figure out a way for her to pass.

She waited until Miaka had taken her medicine and was softly snoring in bed before discussing the problem with Keisuke and Tetsuya. Writing down a list of the subjects Miaka was taking at school, they agreed that Miaka needed to be tutored. Keisuke suggested that while there was not enough time to cram in the whole syllabus, they could focus on the topics most likely to appear in the final exam.

"Spoken like a true slacker," Yui said dryly, "Unfortunately, that's the only option we have time for now."

Keisuke grinned unrepentently as Tetsuya snorted in amusement.

Between them, they split up the task of preparing Miaka for the upcoming exams. Yui shared Japanese Literature and Math classes with Miaka, so she would be able to guide Miaka through those while doing her own revision. Keisuke would help her with World History since he had taken the same course in high school, and Tetsuya, who was good with mathematical figures and equations would assist Yui. Which left only one more subject unaccounted for...

"Economics?" asked Keisuke in horror. "No way! I dropped it after one term, remember?" he spluttered defensively, making a hand sign to ward off the evil eye.

"Not you, Baka!" the Seiryuu no Miko retorted in exasperation. The dark-haired man seated beside her on the couch rolled his eyes behind his aviator sunglasses. The answer, when one thought about it, was glaringly obvious.

Who better than Nicholas to tutor Miaka in the principles underlying business? The man was a professional consultant after all…

"I like the way you think, Yui-chan." A sly smile from crept across Yuuki Keisuke's face as he realised what she was planning.

* * *

Arm in arm, the couple stepped out of the elevator into the hallway reluctantly, both aware that the evening was coming to an end. 

Tonight, they had gone out for dinner and a movie. They'd had a lot of fun at the theatre, laughing at the ridiculous comedy she had wanted to see. He was charmed by the way she asserted the impossibility of being able to finish the huge bucket of popcorn he had purchased and then had, over the course of the movie, proceeded to eat almost all of it. In fact, he'd practically had to duel her for rights to the last handful. He had not felt so carefree and happy in years.

Like any gentleman would, he saw Miaka to her doorstep. She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around him in a quick friendly hug, teasing him about his obsessive need to walk her to her door every time they went anywhere. He wanted so much more, but was careful not to rush her and allowed her to dictate the pace of their relationship. In the weeks since Miaka had been discharged from the hospital, he'd taken every available opportunity to be with her, content simply to be close to her.

"Thanks for today. I had so much fun," her luminous hazel eyes twinkled with remembered laughter. He felt himself melting at the sight. She was so endearing, beautiful both inside and out, and he knew himself to be fast falling under the spell she unknowingly wove over him. That was her unique ability, whether she was aware of it or not.

He waited until she was safely inside before taking a step back, trying to prolong his time in her presence just a little while longer. "Goodnight, Miaka. Sweet dreams," he said with a courtly bow which made her giggle.

"Oyasumi Nasai…Hotohori."

* * *

"_No!" _

"_Could you say that a little louder? I don't think they heard you over in Greenland!" Keisuke snapped in frustration. "C'mon Miaka, be reasonable! The exams are coming and he's the only one familiar with the subject!"_

"_I don't care! I'll fail it before I'll let him tutor me!" Miaka turned hurt hazel eyes to the people in the room, "What's wrong with you people? Have you all been poisoned with Kodoku or something? Why are you suddenly so friendly with Nakago? Don't you remember what he has done?" she asked shrilly, her face flushed with anger and disbelief._

Thinking back to the scene of her staunch refusal, Miaka was starting to regret her own instinctively prejudiced response. Now, barely two weeks before the final exams, she was no longer quite so sanguine about her chances of even scraping through the Economics paper. Her declaration about preferring to fail was coming back to haunt her, especially after they revealed exactly _why_ everyone was so willing to accept the Devil Incarnate into their midst.

Had she really been through so much with her mortal enemy? Yui had recounted the incredible story of a quest against an evil deity named Tenkou. This had been followed by Keisuke's re-telling of another adventure which had involved getting sucked back into the Universe of the Four Gods again to save Houki and the country of Konan. Her head swam with all the information she had been given; and she had trouble keeping the details straight. Miaka came to the conclusion that she'd apparently reached a… _truce_ of some sort with the former shogun. When she inquired about it, Keisuke and Yui had exchanged glances and hesitated a fraction of a second before agreeing with her. This led her to quickly assume that their momentary pause was due to the fact that her relationship with Nakago was probably less than cordial, and they had not wanted to go so far as to lie about her actually being friends with that…that _cold-blooded jerk_. As far as she could discern from her indirect questions, Nakago's personality had not changed much, and she did not think she would have developed any great liking for him. Her brother might regard the blonde Seiryuu seishi as the best thing since sliced bread, but it was clear that **_she_ **did not share the same view.

_What about Hotohori? _a part of her mind whispered. She was very fond of him and he was proving to be an extremely good friend, taking her out to unwind whenever she became too stressed from studying. He was writing and recording a music album in Japanese and often told her that he needed their outings as much as she did. _And Tamahome?_ the tiny voice of her subconscious pressed further, bringing with it a jolt of guilt. By the time the shock of learning that Tamahome had been reincarnated along with Hotohori and her arch-enemy had worn off, she had discovered, with something very close to panic, that her emotions for her beloved seemed lacking in their previous intensity. Her mind _knew_ that she should be in love with him, but somehow, her heart no longer sped up at the thought of him. The others had told her that she and Tamahome were not an item, but had collectively refused to say anymore beyond that on the topic. She had spoken to him over the phone on a few occasions, and every single time, she couldn't seem to think of anything to say to him. His voice was exactly the same as she remembered it, and his gentle concern came through as clearly as it always had. So why did she not feel the same? Tears of frustration burned the backs of her eyes…What had happened over three years? What had she forgotten?

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she let out a loud, gusty sigh. Her skull throbbed with a unrelenting headache from trying to absorb too much in too short a time.

With a heavy heart, she trudged dejectedly through the school gates. Out of desperation, she had taken the bull by the horns and asked her Economics teacher for some extra one-on-one tutoring in a last ditch attempt to salvage her grades. Unfortunately, she could hardly tell her teacher about the huge gap in her memories without going into some very uncomfortable explanations. It did not help that Kawaguchi-sensei viewed the subject with the same wild-eyed fervour as a religious zealot and could not understand how Miaka could be ignorant of even the most basic of concepts. Not surprisingly, the session was a complete disaster, with both instructor and student becoming increasingly agitated, and ending with him dismissing Miaka with a muttered comment about throwing pearls before swine.

It was already late in the day, and she was tired. Her bag weighed a ton, thanks to the many thick textbooks and required readings which various teachers had assigned. When she got home, she would barely have time to eat dinner and shower before Yui came over with Tetsuya to help her with her Math and Literature. Thankfully, they had managed to bring her up to speed in those two subjects. On other nights, she studied History under Keisuke's tutelage. Her easy-going brother was turning out to be a hard task-master. He was an absolute monster! _Just my luck…he had to morph into Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde, _she thought, unable to stop a growl from escaping under her breath. The first thing he had done was to lend her his own high-school exam cram notes, demanding that she memorise them thoroughly. At the end of every chapter, he drilled her mercilessly with endless questions, each one more obscure than the last, until she felt like strangling him. Still, the good news was that after her brother's torture sessions, the exams—if she survived long enough to actually sit for them—would be a breeze.

She was brought out of her musings when a large drop of rain hit her squarely on the forehead.

Miaka almost groaned aloud. _Oh no…Now it's going to pour! Can this day get any worse? I swear that the Big Guy up that has it in for me! I give up my seat to old ladies on the bus. I risk life and limb for my friends. What have I done to deserve this?_

Her mental diatribe went unheeded by whichever divine being that controlled the weather. With a muted roar, the heavens opened.

She let out a curse which would have caused a sailor to wince and made an Olympic-worthy dash towards the nearest bus-stop. By the time she reached the shelter, the rain had started pelting down in buckets. She had just narrowly escaped getting completely drenched in the downpour. _Luckily, my bag is still quite dry! _Having to deal with soggy books and undecipherable cram notes full of smudged ink this close to the exams did not bear thinking about. And then, there was the little problem of her amnesia…

Just as she was about to succumb to the urge to wallow in self-pity, a low-slung sports car abruptly drew up right at the curb in front of her. Miaka was impressed for a heartbeat, until she realised that the vehicle had sent up a spray of water over her shoes. "HEY! WATCH IT, INCONSIDERATE BAKA!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, shaking her fist at the offender while hastily backpedalling to avoid the water sheeting over the pavement where she had been standing.

The window silently lowered just enough for her to see the driver.

"You!" she breathed in disbelief, clutching her bag like a shield. "What do you want?" she asked rudely, hostility flickering through every nerve in her body.

"Get in."

He did not appear to raise his voice over the sound of the engine and the rain, but strangely enough, she heard him as clearly as if they were the only two people in an empty room. Nor was it a request of any sort. The threat in those flinty ice-blue eyes told her that he would most probably find some means of forcing her to his will if she did not comply within the next five seconds.

A startlingly bright flash of lightning snaked across the darkened sky, swiftly followed by the loud crack of thunder. The wind picked up, whipping around her and blowing the rain into the meagre protection of the bus-stop, which was open on three sides. Water was already beading on the exposed skin of her legs and if she remained where she was, she would soon be soaked through.

Miaka bit on her lip, her mind working furiously. According to what Yui and Keisuke had told her, she'd spent a great deal of time working alongside him during their two forays into the Book. Surely if he had wanted to kill her, he would have done so already? Besides, everyone appeared to trust him, so…

Shivering slightly from the cold wind, she yanked open the passenger door, slid in quickly and pulled it shut with a hard slam which caused the entire car to shudder. It would serve him right if she had damaged something. That would teach him to order her around! The Porsche probably cost more than her family's apartment, and she felt a small surge of malicious satisfaction at the impassive stare which greeted her actions.

"I will take you home," Nakago said blandly before she could open her mouth to deliver an ungracious remark.

He changed gears and manoeuvred the vehicle smoothly into the flow of traffic. Her nemesis did not speak or even spare her with a sideways glance. _Probably wondering how to get the water stains out of his precious leather seats! _she theorised with an angry sneer, trying not to notice how nice the aforementioned seats felt, or how soft the leather upholstery was under her fingers.

She could not help studying him surreptitiously. Straight, aristocratic nose, high cheekbones, chiselled features which looked like they had been lovingly carved by a master sculptor. Honey blonde hair. Perfectly shaped, sensual lips. And of course, those gorgeous light-coloured eyes. Together, they made up a very nice package indeed. Unfortunately, Miaka knew what kind of personality lurked under the handsome face and wasn't taken in by it in the least. "How did you know where I was?" she grated out, distrust dripping from every word.

"I just happened to be passing by. Careful, Suzaku no Miko, your paranoia is showing," he responded to her query with no discernible trace of inflection in his voice. His tone did not invite further conversation, nor did she rise to his bait.

It was the truth. Most of it anyway. Nicholas had been several blocks away, on his way back to his apartment after work, when he had felt her depression and the rising tide of frustration that threatened to overwhelm her. He had wanted to ignore it and stay away, but several things had conspired against him. Firstly, the sky had turned a forbidding shade of grey, heralding a thunderstorm. And then, his own instincts had betrayed all logical reasoning, drawing him towards her like the proverbial moth to a flame. By the time common sense had returned, the car was already at the curb in front of the bus shelter.

He had not had any contact with either Keisuke, Tetsuya or Yui since the day he had walked out of her hospital room, but it was clear that they had respected his wishes. Miaka had not been told of their relationship. While she did not exactly despise him, her palpable dismay at being anywhere near him hurt more than he had ever thought possible.

Two months. That was how much time had passed. And all of it had been the purest of hell for him.

Two months of waiting for her to come to him; to throw herself into his arms and lift her lips to his. Sixty-one horrific days of ruthlessly suppressing the primitive urge to seek her out and claim her as his own, once and for all, without giving her the benefit of a choice. One thousand four hundred and sixty-four hours of utter purgatory, knowing that Saihitei was enjoying her company and earning her affections, slowly but surely taking over the place Nicholas himself had once occupied in her heart. Eighty-seven thousand eight hundred and forty minutes of missing the sound of her laughter and the warmth of her smile. Five million two hundred and seventy thousand, four hundred seconds of…

Nicholas gritted his teeth and steadfastly continued the mental calculations, running through every possible increment of time until the figure numbered somewhere in the hundred millions. Then, he proceeded to do it all over again…Backwards. The amount of concentration required to keep track of the numbers while driving in the pouring rain was almost enough to distract him from the soul-wrenching knowledge that he was no longer welcome in the select group of people she allowed close to her.

* * *

In brittle silence, they made the trip up to the fourth floor. Miaka compressed her mouth into a thin line, unhappy that Nakago had disregarded all her protests that he had done quite enough by giving her a ride home and that it was not necessary for him to accompany her to her doorstep. He had subjected her to that damnable expressionless stare that she was starting to detest and proceeded to follow her into the building. 

_What is it with everyone? Do they not trust me to take care of myself?_ she simmered quietly with impotent fury. It had not escaped her notice that she was rarely allowed to go anywhere alone. She had been able to overlook it with Keisuke and Tetsuya. Hotohori made it seem charming and gentlemanly. But Nakago…

The former Shogun was a different matter altogether. Maybe he wasn't plotting to kill her anymore, however, it seemed highly doubtful that he would harbour any genuine concern for her well-being. _Heaven forbid, he'd probably give himself a stroke if he tried to care for anyone,_ the unkind thought was punctuated with a cynical mental snort. She did not trust him either, wary that he was up to something immoral and possibly illegal. Everyone else might believe that the leader of the Seiryuu seishi had turned over a new leaf, but she knew how good Nakago was at deceiving people. He was a highly accomplished manipulator who had managed to convince Yui to turn against her best friend!

Miaka resisted the urge to tap her foot impatiently. _Why is the damned lift taking so long? _The elevator ride was seeming to last an eternity. Not wanting him to know how thoroughly he unsettled her, she occupied herself by digging for her house keys which seemed to evade her fingers, slipping under the books and papers inside her bag. When she finally located the keys and pulled them out, something fell out of her satchel, opening as it landed face-up with a loud thud on the floor of the elevator.

There was barely time to register the very familiar, aged cover of the book and the pages covered with Chinese calligraphy before everything was obscured by a light so bright that it rivalled that of an exploding star...

* * *

Notes: 

1) Yet another evil cliff-hanger brought to you by Yours Truly! This chapter was actually meant to lay the groundwork for the rest of the story, and is by no means a 'filler' chapter. I wanted to explore the gamut of emotions that the different characters experience, from Tetsuya to Nicholas, and most of all, the Suzaku no Miko herself. Each individual has his or her own vastly different thoughts relating to the loss of Miaka's memories. Everyone (even Tetsuya) sees the depth of Nicholas' feelings, except for the couple at the centre of it all: Nakago and Miaka.

2) The lilac colour of Miaka's chi is explained here. It was not so much the colour that I wanted to bring to the readers' attention, but more because it ultimately leads to Yui's realization of how deeply Nicholas cares for Miaka. We get a small insight into the workings of Nicholas/Nakago's mind as well as his particular brand of 'Honour', courtesy of Tetsuya's explanation to Keisuke.

3) It is important to remember that in spite of Miaka's amnesia, life goes on. She still has to attend school. In fact, her upcoming exams are going to be an important point in later chapters.

4) I kind of like Nicholas/Nakago at the end of this chapter. Handsome, brooding, outwardly aloof and just a little...unhinged.

5) I thought _**Control Alternate Delete**_ was a fitting title for this chapter. Similar to a computer rebooting, Nakago and Miaka's relationship is now back to where it really started…when she made the wish to Suzaku to seal his powers. It was also at that moment in time that the first story is this trilogy, "THIS TIME AROUND" begins…


	10. Here There Be Dragons

**Chapter 10 : Here There Be Dragons**

Something was crawling across her hand.

Miaka groaned and gingerly turned her head, hoping that it was another one of the dreams she had been having over the last two months from which she always woke up shaking and disoriented. Broken snippets of conversations, flashes of images in bright colours which might have been memories, and always…_always _that vision of an unknown man…

Unfortunately, she had no such luck. She screwed her eyes shut, counted to ten, then opened them again.

A pair of beady eyes on stalks stared back at her.

To add to the insult, the small white and orange speckled crab waved its tiny claws menacingly under her nose. _Kami-sama, I don't believe this! _With a snarl, she shook the creature off and watched it scuttle sideways to the safety of a nearby rock. There was sand everywhere, sticking to her skin, her hair. To her left, a sheer cliff-face rose towards the sky. To her right, a shimmering turquoise ocean stretched out as far as she could see.

The most incredible thing was the sand under her fingers was a dark pearly grey, almost black. Soft and fine to the touch, it was warm from the sun which was already sinking below the horizon. Miaka drew in a deep lungful of the fresh sea air and scanned the area. The Book of the Four Gods had transported her to a beach; although it was arguably one of the most beautiful she had ever seen.

_The Book! _

Miaka leapt to her feet, her eyes frantically searching for her satchel. Spotting it half buried in the sand a few paces away, she staggered over to it, just in time to save it from the waves which were beginning to lap at the edges.

Her textbooks and notes were dry, but the Shijintenchisho has nowhere in sight.

"Looking for this?"

She whirled around to face the unexpected voice, and almost moaned with despair, for a fate worse than death stood behind her, the Book dangling from one hand. There was no outward emotion on his face, but even at a distance, she somehow knew that he was furious. _Possibly angry enough to kill me…Slowly and very painfully! _Miaka hugged her bag to her chest protectively and lifted her chin defiantly, determined to go down fighting if she had to. "Give it back!" she demanded without preamble, standing her ground as he approached. His sleek movements brought to mind a documentary she'd seen on television recently, of a leopard stalking its prey...

_A leopard never changes its spots. _The old adage popped into her mind unbidden.

Flinty silver-blue eyes raked over her, "Would you care to tell me, Suzaku no Miko," the former shogun came to a halt barely an arm's length away, "Why this was in your bag? I doubt it has been included in the list of prescribed high school texts," he drawled with enough sarcasm to sink the Titanic.

Miaka made to snatch the Book from him, and to her astonishment, he let her take it. "I don't know!" she snapped, baring her teeth at him for good measure, "It was probably on the desk in the study. I must have accidentally packed it along with the rest of my books last night!" The Shijintenchisho had fallen from her bag when she had pulled out her keys, transporting both herself and the person in her immediate vicinity here. But exactly where was _Here_? And why did the person in question have to be _Nakago_? She opened the Book to the last printed page, but it yielded no clues.

Daylight was fading quickly. Her arch-nemesis smoothly turned on his heel and started off towards the cliff with long-legged strides.

"Hey! Wait! Where are you going?" she shouted after him. The insufferable man did not stop to answer. In fact, he gave every indication that he was about to happily abandon her on an unfamiliar, deserted beach. Mentally cursing at the Powers That Be which had so cruelly put her in such a situation and at the unpredictable leader of the Seiryuu seishi whom she was now forced to endure for Suzaku-knew-how-long, she hefted the satchel over one slim shoulder and scrambled after the tall figure of her former enemy.

Her shoes sank into the loose sand, and she was panting with the exertion by the time she reached the base of the cliff. Surprisingly, he stood waiting for her, as if he had known all along that she would follow like an obedient puppy. Miaka stared silently up at the broad but steep flight of stairs which had been carved out of solid rock. She was hungry, tired and her temples were starting to throb once again with the onset of a pressure headache. There were exams to sit for! She did not have time to hang around a beach with someone who made Machiavelli look like a kind-hearted soul! Subsequently, it took all her willpower not to just flop down on the bottom step and cry like a baby.

She did not bother to even glare at him when he spoke, his words soft and somewhat mocking, "Ladies first."

The muscles in her back protested when she shifted the heavy load of her book bag, trying to ease the soreness where the leather strap was beginning to cut into her shoulder. She clamped her teeth together and started the weary climb to the top. There weren't that many steps actually, but she was exhausted from her long day at school, not to mention the strain of dealing with the main star of her nightmares. Nerves strung tight with anxiety which she refused to let him see, Miaka kept her head held high, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

She was roughly halfway up the cliff, her legs starting to tremble with fatigue, when the weight of her bag was taken off her. Being so abruptly relieved of the burden caused her to sway precariously and almost lose her balance. Swinging around, Miaka was just in time to see her blonde adversary sling the carrying strap over his shoulder. He met her startled eyes for a second before wordlessly brushing past her and continuing the climb upwards with enviable ease.

And the worse thing was, he did it without even the slightest hint that he was flaunting his superiority over her.

Miaka felt her nails scoring tiny red crescents on her palms and had to make a conscious effort to unclench her fists. With a angry glare aimed at the back of his head, she followed behind more slowly, stubbornly refusing to feel grateful for his—almost gentlemanly—gesture. Past experience had taught her that he was self-centred and ruthless, with a notable lack of anything that might pass for a conscience…

…Or so she had believed. The problem was that many things did not seem to add up. The cold Seiryuu general she remembered fighting against had displayed nothing but contempt for her and her seishi. This man, while not the most personable of companions, appeared to be slightly more…human. Between giving her a ride home and carrying her books for her, Nakago had yet to do anything she could fault him for. _Damn him! _she seethed inwardly, disgusted at her own weakness as well as how her arch-enemy was making it difficult to hate him.

Her anger propelled her up the last few steps, only to have her stop dead on her tracks as she beheld the large house in front of her. It certainly did not look like any building she had seen previously in the Shijintenchisho. For one, it was unmistakably _modern_ in design with a lot of glass and steel.

"Oh crap…I don't think we're in Tokyo anymore…" she muttered, staring at the structure as if it might somehow get up and bite her.

"It would appear not," he agreed dryly with a hard amusement which failed to reach his eyes as he unlocked the door and walked inside. A moment later, she heard the thud of her overstuffed bag unceremoniously hitting the floor.

The sound snapped her back to the reality of their situation, "Stop manhandling my things! And we can't just walk into someone's house like that!" Gingerly stepping over the threshold, she looked around the beautifully decorated interior, with its gleaming hardwood floors and tasteful furniture...just in time to see him toss a set of keys onto a nearby glass table. "Where did you get those?"

Nakago shrugged, the infuriating gesture seeming to mean everything and nothing at the same time. "They were in my pocket," he said matter-of-factly as he moved to examine the magnificent view of the shoreline afforded by a large window, leaving her to draw her own conclusions. It looked like whoever or whatever that had transported them here had intended for them to stay in the house. As far as accommodations went, this one was positively luxurious by any standard…Miaka was not entirely sure whether that was a good thing.

Sighing, she picked up her bag and cautiously made her way towards an open doorway which led to a bedroom. It was with much relief that she noted that there was another bedroom just down the short hallway. _If not…_ her stomach twisted itself into a knot at the thought of having Nakago as a room-mate. _Ewww! _Not quite enough to be classified as outright nausea, but disturbing enough to make her want to lock the door and barricade it…

…Which she almost did, only this time, _from the outside_.

For floating inches above the large bed, was the hideous form of the being who presided over the Universe of the Four Gods.

"Tai—Taiitsukun!" she squeaked, resisting the urge to back away from the ugliest face she had ever had the misfortune to encounter.

A gnarled hand was waved dismissively in Miaka's direction, heavy-lidded bulging eyes taking in the dishevelled appearance of Suzaku's current priestess. "What took you so long? Had some fun on the beach with that blonde Seiryuu boy, eh?" the old witch waggled her almost non-existent eyebrows suggestively, seeming to delight in the fact that the Suzaku no Miko was now becoming distinctly green around the gills.

The comment served to rouse her, and the russet-haired girl choked on her indignation, "No way!" she spat out with alacrity. Struggling to hold on to what was left of her self-control, she growled at the deity, "Where exactly is this place and why are we here? Wait! Let me guess, this the part where you say 'Suzaku no Miko, your mission, which you have no choice but to accept is…'. Is this house going to self-destruct in five seconds?"

Taiitsukun seemed amused by her derisive response and floated towards Miaka, "The Fates have decided that you needed a vacation."

Miaka gaped speechlessly at the unexpected announcement. It took her a few tries before she managed to find her voice. "Vacation? I don't need a vacation! What I want," she bit out, dropping her satchel lest she was tempted to swing it at the divine being's face, "Is for you to send me back! _Now_! My exams are coming!" A silent battle of wills ensued, until her eyes started to hurt and she was compelled to blink.

"It is out of my hands. I may oversee the Universe of the Four Gods, but the Fates preside over the past, present and future. They are not to be trifled with." Taiitsukun's face ceased with distaste at being forced to admit that she was out-ranked. "You will be sent back when the conditions of destiny have been satisfied."

"And exactly how long would that take?" Nakago's voice came from just outside the bedroom door, where he had obviously been listening in on the conversation.

The old crone shifted her gaze to the blonde man, eyeing him lecherously, "That would depend on you, wouldn't it?" Wrinkled lips parted in a gap-toothed grin as the witch sent a very significant glance towards the girl, then to the bed. "As I said, the conditions of destiny have to be satisfied."

All at once, the true meaning of the words hit Miaka with the force of a careening ten-ton truck, "WHAT? No, no, NO!" the phoenix priestess shrieked for emphasis. "I'm not going to do THAT with HIM! Never!" Hot pink coloured her cheeks as the next words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them, "Taiitsukun no Hentai! Why do you keep telling me to have sex with him anyway? He'll probably kill me in my sleep at the first opportunity!" she raged, whipping round to send her arch-enemy a look of utter revulsion.

"Don't," he told her in a low, deadly calm voice, "Tempt me."

A loud clearing of the throat which sounded like someone trying to start a rusty chainsaw, forcibly drew the attention of the two feuding adversaries. The old hag smiled unpleasantly, "I had nothing to do with that incident in Hokkan. That was Tomo's illusion. It wasn't my fault that you were gullible enough to fall for it!" Impatience showed on her wizened features as she shook a warning finger at the steaming miko, "Now, children, play nice. The sooner you two get to it, the sooner you will be back in your own world. Don't worry about missing your exams either, Suzaku no Miko. Both of you will be returned to the exact moment you were taken. Oh, and by the way, this house is equipped with everything you might need, including…" The grating sound of Taiitsukun's cackles lingered as she faded out of sight.

The frazzled priestess let out a shrill war-cry, and lunged forward with the unconcealed intention of throttling the odious deity…Only to end up sprawled across the bed in the most undignified manner. Nicholas tried not the notice the way Miaka's skirt had ridden up, revealing a most indecent glimpse of her thighs. She levered herself up, muttering a few choice profanities directed at the most powerful being in the Universe of the Four Gods. Her odangos were coming loose; the scarlet ribbons holding them in place had unravelled, leaving her flushed face softly framed with wisps of russet hair. Combined with the fact that she was currently lying on a rather large bed… Did the fiery little miko know how alluring and innocently sexy she looked, with her hair in disarray and her slender legs on display? He felt the sharp burn of desire in his lower body and forced himself to walk away from the scene.

The truth was, it would not be any hardship for him to make love to her now and bring a swift end to their exile (which was what the old hag seemed to be hinting at). Unfortunately, it was very unlikely that Miaka would consent to that, when she did not remember what they had together. He knew that her virginity was precious to her, and that she would not give it up lightly to any man, least of all someone she appeared to dislike quite thoroughly. He had no right to take it from her, and he refused to do so unless she was completely willing.

In other words, they were going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future.

_

* * *

__My life officially sucks! If I had known that this was going to happen, I would have not bothered getting out of bed today! _She pounded her fists against the mattress in frustration and fought the urge to scream very loudly. How could fate do this to her? Why of all people? The questions circled around endlessly in her mind. 

It did not take her long to realise that taking her anger out on the pillows solved none of her problems. She glanced at the still-open doorway, belatedly remembering that she was not alone in this house. However, there was no sign of blonde hair anywhere in sight. She snorted; the fearsome shogun had probably backed off in horror at the prospect of having to sleep with her. Not that she would allow him to come anywhere near her or her virtue…and she would make doubly sure that her door was locked at night, Miaka vowed grimly as she got to her feet.

A quick circuit of the room revealed an attached _en suite_ with a large tub and a shower. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that she would not have to share bathroom facilities with Nakago. Taiitsukun had not been lying when she said that the house came equipped with everything they might need… her favourite brand of bath gel and shampoo stood on a white marble ledge next to a toothbrush and toothpaste. One cabinet held all the necessities a girl would need, including feminine hygiene products and a bottle of aspirin, while another contained fluffy white towels.

Liberating one of the towels to use, she carefully secured the bathroom door and proceeded to have a very long, very hot shower.

After successfully scalding away her headache, she slowly padded back into the bedroom on bare feet and cautiously opened the wardrobe, only to discover that it was filled with clothes that were definitely not hers but were—unsurprisingly—all in her size. Everything looked expensive and brand new. Even right down to the beautiful silk-and-lace underwear which she had always admired in up-market stores, but could never afford to buy.

Whoever was behind this crazy idea to get herself and Nakago together had certainly pulled out all the stops. Miaka gritted her teeth, fighting down the rising panic as the delicate, filmy scraps of cloth took on a far more barbaric significance. The intention behind them was painfully clear. Sucking in a harsh breath, she quickly selected what she needed along with a pair of beige Capri pants and a pale orange shirt with a pretty ethnic Indian design around the neckline. Once she had put on the clothes, she resumed her exploration of the room. Glass doors framed by gauzy white curtains opened out into a small balcony with a postcard perfect view of the sea. There was a vanity table with a large mirror against one wall, which she noted—with somewhat fatalistic resignation—held a familiar bottle of her strawberry scented body spray and lotion, among other things. Close by, a matching cabinet stood next to the bed. She soon realised that curiosity killed the cat when she idly opened the top drawer…

Nestled discreetly inside were at least a dozen little silver foil-wrapped packages…Obviously placed within convenient reaching distance from the bed. Her face flamed as she hastily slammed the drawer shut, finally registering the innuendo in Taiitsukun's parting remark. She suddenly felt like crawling under the bed and never emerging. Or better still, she wondered where she might borrow a very sharp sword so that she could hunt the overseer down and run the old hag through with it.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. _What am I going to do?_ The thought was swiftly followed by a loud growl from her stomach. Wincing in mortification at the bad timing, she fought back her apprehension and decided to brave the unknown…and Nakago.

_Cool and business-like, _she reminded herself when she marched across the living room towards the kitchen. Something smelled delicious, and she was hungry enough to eat a moose! Squaring her shoulders, she rounded the corner…and came face-to-face with the sight of Nakago with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, _stirring something in a saucepan. _Seeing him so domesticated caused a funny sensation in her tummy. Or was that her heart? She shook her head to clear it of the strange thought.

His voice cut across her inner musings, pulling her back to the present. "Make yourself useful, Miko and set the table," he said abruptly, not turning to look at her.

"Nani? Don't order me around!" Miaka crossed her arms stubbornly, only to realise that the gesture was lost on him, since he was facing away from her. Unless, of course, he had eyes on the back of his head. The aroma of tomatoes, basil and garlic wrapped around her, causing her mouth to water. She wanted to ignore it, but her stomach let out another loud rumble. It did not take long before she conceded defeat and reluctantly stepped into the spacious kitchen-area to hunt for plates and cutlery.

Biting her lip, she nervously skirted around Nakago to get to the water glasses. On the way, she could not resist peeking into the industrial-sized refrigerator and discovered to her surprise, that it was fully stocked with an impressive array of food items. She removed an apple from the vegetable drawer and almost dropped it when another appeared to replace the one she had taken out.

"It magically restocks itself. Taiitsukun's doing, no doubt," the former Seiryuu seishi supplied dryly at her stifled exclamation of surprise.

Which meant that they were in no danger of starving. It also seemed to imply that they would be stuck here for a while, until they—…her mind shied away from the idea. Miaka twisted around to find her nemesis regarding her with an unfathomable expression on his chiselled features. They held each other's gaze for one timeless moment until the blonde man turned his back on her in order to deftly scoop pasta out of a pot of boiling water.

Before she knew it, a plate of heavenly-smelling spaghetti smothered in a rich homemade tomato sauce was being held out to her by her former enemy. Despite the insistent demands of her stomach, she eyed the contents warily.

She opened her mouth to ask whether any of the ingredients contained rat-poison.

Nakago skewered her with an impassive stare, silencing the words before they made it past her lips. "Whether you eat it or not is up to you, Miko," he stated very evenly as he picked an identical plate off the kitchen counter and walked out to the dining table without a backward glance.

She looked down at the plate in her hands and sighed. Could she trust him? She recalled, with perfect clarity, what he had said that day in the hospital after she'd tried to attack him. _I am not here to kill you, Suzaku no Miko. If only it were that simple…_The recollection brought a frown to her face, as she wondered what he had meant by that. And then, there were also the resounding testimonies from Yui and Keisuke about how much Nakago had changed. Was there something preventing him from harming her? Perhaps a spell or curse? Maybe with both Seiryuu and Suzaku already summoned, the time for fighting each other was truly past, and there was no longer any need for them to be enemies. Her mind conjured up several likely scenarios, however, none of them brought her any closer to finding out the real reason.

In the end, hunger won out. The blonde man at the table did not say anything when she seated herself at the opposite end. However, she did not miss the distinct mocking gleam in his blue eyes, which prompted her to dig her fork almost viciously into her dinner, imagining that he was the one she was stabbing with the utensil.

It was of little consolation to her when she put the food into her mouth, discovering that the spaghetti was actually very good and the sauce had definitely not come out of a jar…

* * *

As each day unfolded into the next, she found the silence driving her to near insanity. A social creature by nature, Miaka could never stand being cut off from people. She had been trapped in this place for what seemed to be interminable length of time, and had spent most of it wandering around the house or down at the beach exploring the shoreline. Nakago did not seem to mind the isolation, but she would not know, since she had yet to exchange more than a handful of words with him…something in her instinctively prompted her to steer clear of him whenever possible. Any conversation comprised of meal-time verbal warfare with the arrogant blonde man whom she was currently sharing accommodations with. He did not seem inclined to talk to her unless it was to bait her, and if she didn't know better, she would have sworn that he was avoiding her as much as she was avoiding him! 

She hardly saw him around, leading her to wonder what he did with himself the rest of the time. One of the rooms in the house had been converted into an impressive library stocked with books covering a wide variety of topics, so she assumed he spent most nights in there, reading. She chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pencil, staring down at her exam revision notes but not seeing the mathematical equation in front of her. Instead, she contemplated the far more complex puzzle of her former enemy. It was late, and all was quiet except for the sound of the surf far below. With a sigh, she shut her book and lay back against the pillows, her thoughts chasing each other in circles.

It seemed that she had only just drifted off to sleep when she was awakened by the soft sound of the front door being opened and closed.

A glance at her watch revealed the time to be six-thirty in the morning. She groaned, _Trust Nakago to be up and about at the crack of dawn_. As tempting as it was to roll over and go back to sleep, Miaka suddenly remembered the decision she had reached the night before. She was going to follow the blonde Seiryuu seishi today to find out what he got up to when he wasn't playing the role of a _cordon bleu_ chef! Grumbling under her breath, she hauled herself out of bed, and staggered to her bedroom balcony. It was still quite dark outside, but she could just make out the tall silhouette of her house-mate heading down the stairs to the beach. As she watched in confusion, Nakago stood motionless atop a large flat rock and seemed stare across the sea to where the sky was just beginning to turn pink. After a few minutes, the figure smoothly folded itself down into a cross-legged sitting position.

_Meditating? _Miaka could scarcely believe her eyes. She had not pegged him as the type to find peace in such a way. She retreated back inside, in case he happened to look up and spot her.

Three-quarters of an hour later, freshly showered, dressed and somewhat more awake, she looked out at the rock…only to discover that her arch-enemy had disappeared. Spurred by curiosity and other emotions she could not identify, she made her way down to the beach to investigate.

* * *

Keeping his eyes open, he allowed himself to sink beneath the surface. 

Underwater, everything appeared different. The sounds were muted, the colours painted in shades of green and blue. He savoured the feeling of weightlessness, the almost-sensual rippling caress of the water currents against his skin. He allowed himself to drift along until his lungs were burning with the need to breathe and wondered if she would miss him if he were to die now.

Except, it would be such an ignominious death, after all that they had been through. Suicide was for the weak, an easy way out…Nicholas did not consider himself a coward.

Surfacing with a heaving gasp, Nicholas inhaled deeply as he treaded water. The salty air tasted sweet on his tongue. _Nothing like a reminder of one's mortality to put everything in perspective. _Blinking the stinging seawater out of his eyes and running his fingers through his wet hair to push it back off his forehead, he let out a soundless sigh. This forced exile with the girl who not only no longer loved him, but who was also deeply suspicious of him was slowly wearing on both of them. It hurt badly, to be so near her and not be able to touch her, to know that she did not trust him any further than she could throw him…

…Which wasn't very far, given her tiny stature and the fact that he was easily twice her size.

Swimming back to the shore at the same punishing pace that he had set when he had started out, he could feel his muscles straining with the effort. Just as he felt himself tiring and slowing down, he saw that the strip of secluded beach was closer than he had realised and that the water had became shallow enough for his feet to touch the sandy bottom. He stood up in the chest-deep water and silently regarded the lone figure sitting on the rock beside his discarded clothes. She must have come down to the beach sometime during his long swim.

"I thought you were trying to drown yourself…I didn't want to miss it," she said lightly, sounding as if she would have happily have helped bring about his supposed demise if given an opportunity.

At least she had not bothered to tell him a lie about wanting to watch the sunrise. The one positive thing which had come out of this whole farce was that being in close proximity with him put the Suzaku no Miko under so much stress that she no longer seemed to have the energy to hide what she was thinking and simply said whatever came into her mind.

His lips twisted mockingly, "Sorry to disappoint." Lifting a hand to wipe excess water off his face, he made no move to approach her or his clothes as yet. "I suggest you turn around, Miko…" he tilted his head and paused meaningfully, a suggestive smirk lurking at the corners of his mouth, "Unless, of course, you wish to see me in the nude?"

He watched as she turned a brilliant crimson, reminding him that she was even more innocent now, since she did not remember the little intimacies they had once shared. How he had missed watching her blush for him. Wondering just how far he could push her, he slowly started forward until the water level receded to his waist. Still, his stubborn little miko kept eye contact with him, her misguided sense of bravery apparently did not allow her to back down. _A game of 'Chicken', _he thought with amusement, one which she was most definitely going to lose since he was not about to stand around in the sea all day.

Shrugging slightly for her benefit, he glided a few feet closer. Besides, he _had _asked and thus considered her adequately forewarned. Nicholas was not ashamed of his body, and if she was going to act so ridiculously, then she was in for quite an eyeful.

At the last possible moment before he would have exposed himself completely, she averted her eyes in embarrassment, leapt to her feet and stomped off in the direction of the stone stairway.

* * *

"You surprise me, Suzaku no Miko. Economics?" 

She could almost feel his breath on the vulnerable nape of her neck and fervently wished that she had not chosen to wear her hair up in her favoured odango style this morning. _What would it be like, to be kissed there…? _A tiny treacherous voice in her mind whispered. She shot up from her seat, almost causing the stool to topple over. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" she hissed as soon as she was safely on the other side of the granite-topped kitchen counter, praying to every god in existence that he would not hear the tremor in her voice.

He had the nerve to arch an eyebrow at her, but did not utter a word…Which was not particularly necessary, seeing that he somehow managed to convey a wealth of meaning with a single glance.

Folding her arms defensively, she glared daggers at him, "Go on, I'm sure you're dying to insult my hair. See if I care! It's not like you've never done it before…" her tirade halted abruptly, belatedly realising what she had just said.

He seemed to freeze for a split-second. All traces of mockery vanished, and she found herself on the receiving end of an unsettlingly intense appraisal.

"Do you remember when?" he questioned in a soft demand, his eyes narrowed into shards of glittering blue ice.

"I…" she tried to focus on the fleeting images. The memory of him referring to her by a truly unflattering name surfaced in her mind. "You called me…Odango Atama," she frowned at him. "In a forest…T-Tamahome…" she faltered momentarily, but quickly pushed forward as the recollection became clearer, "Tamahome was there with us. We were lost…And you insulted my hair…" she finished lamely.

"Anything else? Does your flashback extend to why we were there in the first place?"

Miaka shook her head, "No. Yui told me about Tenkou and how we stopped him together, but I don't remember _being there and living it_! To me, it's just like another story." She looked up at him, expecting him to…._What?_ That annoying little voice in her mind intruded once again. _What were you expecting him to do, hmmmm…? _it purred like a giant, well-fed cat. She huffed and proceeded to give it a well-aimed mental kick.

Something moved behind the perfect veneer of his handsome features. Had it been anyone else, Miaka would have been willing to swear that it had been…disappointment. Whatever it was, it was immediately suppressed with the ease of long practice. _In fact, he does it so often that he's turned it into an art form, _she shuddered inwardly at his cold detachment and wondered how any human being could live like that. However, at the moment, she was glad for his icy reserve. Instead of pressuring her to recall more details, he said nothing and efficiently began preparing their breakfast.

"You looked better with long hair," she blurted out suddenly before clapping her hands over her mouth in horror.

Nakago stilled, "Hardly acceptable in this day and age, Miko, unless you happen to be a pop star."

His expression was as unreadable as always, but she thought that she detected a smile lurking in his tone. Miaka didn't miss the fact that he was referring to Hotohori, but since he did not pursue the subject any further, she decided not take up the issue. Watching the graceful movements of his long fingers as he swiftly sliced mushrooms with almost surgical precision, _He has nice hands, _she could not help musing. _And he's a good cook…_she blushed at the direction her thoughts were going. _I'm not falling for him! It's just…He fascinates me_, she told herself resolutely, refusing to delve too deeply into it. Nakago had taken on the task of preparing their meals, telling her on no uncertain terms that he had no intention of testing the limits of his digestive system by eating her cooking. In a way, she was finally beginning to see why Yui and Keisuke seemed to trust him so much. He was not the man whom she last remembered trying to kill her in downtown Tokyo, and while she would not go so far as to say that he had turned into a saint, he was showing remarkable consideration and patience towards her aside from the verbal jabs he dished out at her from time to time.

Not that she didn't secretly enjoy their skirmishes.

Miaka sighed and returned to the thick textbook lying open on the counter. She had been staring at it since the morning's fiasco down at the beach, alternating between trying to figure out what all the graphs with various coloured squiggly lines meant and being distracted by the sound of running water from the bathroom where one lethally desirable and very naked blonde man was showering.

Damn the arrogant jerk! This was all his fault! No sane person would go swimming in the ocean (in his birthday suit, no less) at an ungodly hour the first thing in the morning!

Despite her best efforts to adopt a blasé attitude, her face burned at the memory of what she had been mere seconds away from seeing. Like most girls her age, she had a healthy curiosity about the male of the species and their…er…equipment. But to think that she had almost been treated to an X-rated view of _Nakago's—_…she gulped and attempted to hide behind the book. On one level, she was desperately trying to banish any thoughts remotely related to the former shogun being in any state of undress. Or taking a bath. Or…being wet. On another level, her worry over her exams loomed just as large in her mind. If she failed the Economics paper, she would not be able to graduate and would have to repeat her final year. Given that her knowledge of the subject was rudimentary at best, it was about to become a very definite possibility.

It was a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Neither seemed appealing.

The sound of a platter being set down in front of her startled her so badly that she nearly ended up on the floor. How long had she been sitting there battling with her inner turmoil? Apparently, she had been far more preoccupied than she had realised, to miss the delicious smell of food which now filled the kitchen. Looking up, she collided with yet another patented smirk.

A mouth-watering mushroom omelette sat just under her nose, along with some buttered toast and bacon. Across the counter, a similar plate had also been laid out.

"I never thought I would see the day that you would be so absorbed in Macro-Economic Theory that you would ignore food," Nicholas stated, gauging her reaction carefully. He had been aware of her introspection while he had gone about making their breakfast. Instead of the expected outburst, her huge, expressive hazel eyes had flicked nervously back to her book as she murmured a soft word of thanks. She did not touch the food on her plate. That, in itself, was sufficient cause for alarm.

He could feel the tension radiating from her; had seen the dark insecurity written across her face. Deciding not to crowd her, he turned to retrieve the appropriate cutlery from the cabinet drawer on the other side of the kitchen. Something was definitely bothering her, and he wished she trusted him enough to tell him what it was.

Miaka's hands tightened on the textbook as she came to a decision. Nakago had been almost _nice_ to her for the majority of the three days they had been trapped here together so far…and those few days had been long enough for her to admit to herself that she could not do this alone. Biting the inside of her cheek, she waited until her former arch-nemesis made his way back and impassively handed her a knife and fork. _It's now or never, Yuuki! _Miaka told herself as she prepared to throw her lot in with the devil, "Nakago, I…I need y-your help with th-this," she stammered awkwardly, indicating her formidable text. Swallowing her pride, she forced out one last word, "Please."

Although she half-expected him to flay her with a hurtful remark about stupidity before turning her down flat, his lack of acknowledgement of her request proved even more unnerving. He calmly pulled up a bar stool and settled himself on it, facing her squarely across the narrow polished surface of the counter.

"All right."

She let out the breath she had not been aware that she'd been holding, "That's it? Just like that? You're not going to make me beg and grovel?" she could not prevent herself from asking a little suspiciously.

"That was never my intention." A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. Pale silver-blue eyes held hers steadily, as if he was stripping away all the layers of her soul and examining them, one by one.

Suddenly feeling small and petty, Miaka looked down at her food. Once again, it seemed that she had misjudged her erstwhile enemy. Despite all her misgivings about him, she had every confidence in Nakago's ability to help her with her studies…it was securing his agreement to do so that was difficult. But she had managed to overcome that hurdle and relief surged through her. Just like that, the exam did not appear so daunting anymore. Her stomach growled loudly, heralding the return of her appetite. Blushing, she smiled tentatively at him as she picked up the fork, letting him see the hope blooming inside her. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"You only had to ask, Miko," was all he said before turning his attention to his breakfast.

* * *

Notes: 

1) In memory of those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001.

2) Some of you might recognise the title "Here there be dragons" or simply "Here be dragons" as a notation found on old English maps. It was often used by map-makers to indicate areas which were unexplored, and therefore believed to be inhabited by fierce dragons that would spell certain doom to the unwary traveller. In this chapter, I intended it to reflect the fact that Nakago represents Miaka's greatest fears…he is the unknown that she must slowly explore and discover. It was purely by chance that Nakago is a Seiryuu seishi, hence also a 'dragon' in a sense.

3) Machiavelli was an Italian author and statesman, who wrote a series of political commentaries. The famous quote, _The ends justify the means, _is found in his book "The Prince".

4) Extra points to those of you who spotted my parody (and subsequent butchering) of the famous line from the Mission Impossible series: "Your mission, should you choose to accept it…this tape will self-destruct in five seconds."


	11. Rosemary For Remembrance

**Chapter 11: Rosemary For Remembrance**

Her first lesson with the Devil Incarnate was due to begin shortly after breakfast. There was an unspoken agreement between them: Nakago did the cooking, and she did the washing up. Miaka was elbow-deep in soapy water at the kitchen sink, when she finally suffered from a last minute attack of nerves. Suddenly, asking for the blonde Seiryuu seishi's help did not seem like such a good idea after all.

_Stop it, baka! _she scolded herself, _They're only a few tuition sessions, nothing to be afraid of! It's not as if you're marrying him or anything…_

Unfortunately, it neither quelled the army of butterflies in her stomach, nor silenced the frightened virginal schoolgirl lurking at the back of her mind. _He needs to seduce us in order to get out of here! You've just given him a perfect excuse to get close! And after he beds us, he might decide to kill us! _the virgin wailed hysterically.

For one awful moment, Miaka wondered if having her mind refer to itself in the plural was an indication that her overtaxed sanity had finally packed its bags and fled for greener pastures. Then she realised that it was far too late to do anything about it. She had been the one to ask Nakago for a favour in the first place; and he was probably already waiting to start their session. Besides, she was dimensions away from the nearest good psychiatrist. Having made her bed (to use an ironic turn of phrase), she was going to have to sleep in it. If she ended up in the same bed as the blonde shogun and the worst really did happen…

She yanked the plug out of the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. _Then at least, _she told her alter-ego firmly, _we won't die a virgin._

With that, she slammed the lid on the mental argument, rinsed the dishes and set them on the drying rack with more force than was necessary.

Grabbing her textbook off the counter, she went to her room first to get some assorted stationery. Armed with everything she might need, she ventured into the living room, where to her immense surprise, she found Nakago lounging on the floor. His back was propped against the couch, and he had moved a low, square coffee-table to serve as a writing desk. From what she could see, he'd removed his shoes as well.

He was busy writing something on a sheet of paper, and looked up from the task long enough to nod imperiously at the spot on the floor adjacent to him. Miaka stared at him in bemusement for a full minute before gingerly settling herself on the thick carpet in the place he had specified. It did not take her long to realise that this arrangement was far more comfortable and less intimidating than the alternative.

"I expected you to be sitting at the dining table," Miaka admitted softly when he finished what he was doing. She'd taken the opportunity to observe her blonde nemesis when he had been occupied, and discovered that up close, the impact of his presence was even more potent. _I am staying in a beautiful house on a perfect beach, with a handsome man who can cook. Any girl would kill to be in my shoes. Shouldn't I be a little happier about it? _she asked herself cynically. While Hotohori was by far the most beautiful man she had ever met (even Tamahome and Tasuki could turn most female heads), Nakago possessed the kind of dangerously attractive male magnetism which could draw women like bees to honey. And not to mention raw sex appeal. He obviously had it by the bucket-load. _Don't even go there, Yuuki! _The thing which really had her worried was that either he was not aware of it, or more likely, simply did not care.

He gave her a disconcertingly direct stare, "Would you have preferred that?"

"Not really…" She concentrated on taking off her own shoes and tucked her legs neatly beneath her body. Opening the book to the page she had been having trouble with, she pointed to the parts she did not understand. The blonde man glanced at the diagrams with little interest. Instead, he took the textbook from her, closed it very deliberately and set it aside.

She made a grab for the thick book. "What are you doing? You said you were going to help me!" Angry that he was going back on his word, she gripped the corners of the table, preparing to get to her feet. His earlier claim that '_she only had to ask'_ had meant nothing! She did not know why she had wanted to trust him; why she'd foolishly allowed herself to get her hopes up…or why it suddenly hurt so much to find out he had simply been toying with her.

"Stay where you are," he commanded, something in his voice stopping her instantly. The erstwhile leader of the Seiryuu seishi held her captive with a sharp glare, reading her thoughts with uncanny accuracy. "I do not break promises, Suzaku no Miko. I will help you, but first," he slid the list he had written over to her, "We start with the basics."

* * *

As it turned out, Nakago had been right in his assessment of their need to start right from the beginning. There was a great deal she did not know about the basics…a great deal she had not even realised that she did not know. 

The Seiryuu general proved to be the most unusual of tutors. He did not attempt to force the knowledge into her brain the same way Keisuke did, nor did he make her memorise the text or notes. Instead, he pointed out important concepts, explaining them to her with shrewd and often cutting humour. Afterwards, he would prompt her to give him examples in terms that she understood, no matter how silly they sounded. In her case, her explanations often revolved around the price and quantity of hamburgers. Hesitant at first, she slowly grew more confident when he did not ridicule her.

Strangely enough, Miaka found herself relaxing and enjoying the experience of learning for the very first time. Her most hated nemesis taught her economics the same way he cooked their meals: quickly, efficiently and sometimes with methods that were slightly unorthodox. There were some things, he told her, that one could not learn from a book.

She caught a glimpse of the man whom he was in the modern world; someone who was probably well respected among colleagues and clients. She saw him as others saw him: Charismatic, persuasive and possessing a razor-sharp intelligence behind those beautiful quicksilver eyes. It bothered her, the way his low, throaty chuckle (when he was amused by something she said) caused her insides to tighten in reaction…rather like someone running a finger down her spine.

The days soon fell into a familiar pattern. He would help her with her studies after breakfast, and they would work steadily until lunch. Sometimes, Miaka would make sandwiches (she was quite capable of putting together a decent ham and cheese sandwich, as long as it did not involve cooking anything) and they would eat the simple meal seated on the floor, picnic-style. Once they had cleared away the plates, Nakago would typically set her a small test. To her surprise and delight, his questions often featured inventive real-life scenarios involving the price, demand and supply of her favourite food items, such as strawberries and chocolate cheesecake.

It did not mean, however, that he was not still cool and sarcastic. She tried not to be offended when, in true _Nakago-esque_ style, he refused to tutor her for more than a few hours each day, telling her quite bluntly that her capacity for knowledge absorption slowed down to nothing after lunch, and that spending that much time in each other's company was not healthy. So, her afternoons were often spent alone down at the beach; swimming, reading or napping by the sea; while the evenings were used for further revision of the other subjects she was taking.

Despite their varied (and sometimes snide) verbal exchanges over the course of their daily sessions, Nakago never made any mention about her apparent lack of intelligence or scholastic ability. Miaka was extremely grateful for this rare show of tact. It was strange, that she had come to regard him as a friend of sorts…something that she had never thought possible. Neither of them had broached the subject of getting back to their own world, but Taiitsukun's words were always there at the back of her mind whenever she was near him, that she—…_they_ would have to be intimate sooner or later. She suspected that out of deference towards her, her former arch-enemy was actually being a complete gentleman, not in words or sensitivity, but in the fact that he made no attempt to touch her unnecessarily. There were moments when she almost wished that he would revert to the ruthless, unprincipled shogun who had manipulated them at every turn; who would do what needed to be done and get it over with. Anything would be better than this waiting…this never-ending limbo that they were trapped in.

_It could have been worse_, _the Fates could have stuck me with Miboshi! _she consoled herself, shuddering at the thought of the evil little monk. Nakago, she had to admit, was very easy on the eyes and was also likely to be an experienced lover.

Her stomach clenched. She hated Taiitsukun and fate for putting her in this impossible dilemma. For her, love and sex were inescapably entwined. She could not give her body to someone she did not love and who did not love her in return. Doing so would destroy her. While the blonde shogun probably didn't have such hang-ups about sex, she very much doubted that he would willingly sleep with a girl whom he wasn't even remotely attracted to.

* * *

By the middle of their third week of exile, Nakago had managed to accomplish what her teacher at school had failed to do. In spite of his less than approachable personality, Miaka had to admit that he was an excellent instructor. She now knew most of the material off-hand. Never once had they gone strictly by the book. Early on, she had protested that she wanted her textbook back for reference purposes, but he retained possession of it and stated that she would not need it. This left her with little choice but to take comprehensive notes of whatever they discussed. Along the way, she threatened him with bodily harm and eternal damnation should she discover that he had taught her the wrong things. 

As they finished up the session, he placed the thick Economics text on the table. Miaka looked at him in askance. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in one of his patented smirks and he flipped the book open to the very same page which had posed such a challenge to her before.

She took in the complex graphs illustrated on the page with a frown, realising that she actually _did _understand what they meant and she could probably produce something just like that without breaking a sweat. Scratching her head, she eyed him with an air of faint confusion, "Your quizzes seemed more difficult than this…" she said slowly. Was it her imagination, or did the Walking Icicle seem almost smug?

"They were."

When he caught her glare which demanded a more complete explanation, he elaborated impassively, "Textbooks only list down the straight and narrow theories. These only apply under the condition of _Ceteris Paribus_, when all other things remain equal. As you already know, the real world does not work like that." Smoothly rising to his feet, he looked down at her. For a moment, it was as if he was about to say something more, but seemed to think the better of it. Pale blue eyes flicked to the book, then back to her face, "Remember what we have gone through, you will be fine."

For some peculiar reason, Miaka had the feeling that he was not just referring to Economics…that he was trying to tell her something else on another level.

She was still puzzling over his words later that day as she strolled barefoot along the water's edge, enjoying the feel of the soft sand between her toes. The sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, and Miaka could not help thinking how beautiful and romantic the surroundings were. Unfortunately, the only person who was around to share this magnificent place with her was a certain blonde, not-very-friendly shogun.

She closed her eyes, imagining herself in a flowing white silk dress and holding a bouquet of roses, standing on this very beach. As family and friends looked on, she would exchange vows with a man who loved her more than anything in the world. And in the last moment of daylight, he would kiss her…

Nakago's tutorials must have really done a number on her and she was more tired than she thought…why else would she be seeing something so unlikely? The only other explanation was that she had quietly slid over the edge of sanity without noticing. _But a girl can always hope, right?_ The priestess sighed as the pleasant daydream dissolved like sea-foam. Once, she had believed that Tamahome would be the one. However, things were different now. Regret twisted her heart, squeezing it like a vise, when she remembered the terrible price of the ticket back to her own world. By the time she got home, she would no longer be in possession of the most precious gift she had to give. Many of her peers at school had already started experimenting and some even boasted about their sexual exploits, but somehow, it had always seemed vitally important to Miaka that she saved herself for her future husband.

A veil of hot tears obscured her vision as the fears that she had so far been able to confine to the back of her mind pushed their way to the surface. The fact that she would have to surrender her virginity to a man who did not even want it made it all the more unbearable.

Her hands balled into fists, and she forced herself back under control. She knew that it was unfair to be angry at him…he was trapped as much as she was. Scrubbing at her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, she took several calming deep breaths. It would not do for her to have a nervous breakdown now! A few steps away, flash of white in the dark sand caught her eye. Stooping down to investigate, she was soon the proud new owner of a pretty seashell. Glossy and perfectly formed, the inside was tinged a delicate peach pink. The find served to cheer her up slightly, and as she fingered the smooth object, she noticed the unique swirling pattern that made it look like a piece of art rather than something which had occurred naturally.

Slipping it into the pocket of her shorts, she continued down the beach until she came upon a few tidal pools. Several small fish had been unfortunate enough to be stranded in the pools when the tide had receded and darted frantically about in the water. _I wonder if they know that they're in danger? The pool could dry up before the tide rises. _Intent on examining the other denizens in the tidal pool, she did not realise how precarious her own position was. She leaned over to have a closer look, failing to notice the slippery seaweed underfoot…

With a startled shriek, she tumbled into the water with a huge splash. Luckily, the pool was not deep enough for her to drown in and she ended up sitting in six inches of water. Dazed by the unexpected fall, Miaka did not notice the pale, ghostly shape until she felt something brush against her leg. She looked down into the clear, shimmering water in alarm. The jellyfish drifted with silent, deadly grace near her. She shrank back, instinctively jerking her leg away from the creature…Her ankle got tangled in one of the long trailing tendrils, disturbing the creature and causing it to discharge its stings in self-defence.

Pain shot up her leg, so intense that it felt as if her leg had been stabbed a hundred times. The next instant, she was hauled bodily out of the water and dumped in a wet heap on the sand.

Nicholas had been at the other end of the beach, going through the familiar motions of a martial arts _kata_ when he heard the sound which had chilled the blood in his veins. Miaka's scream echoed in his mind as he raced across the gleaming black sand, his senses directing him unerringly to where she was. Relief swamped his senses when he found her spluttering in a shallow tidal pool, seemingly unharmed. Apparently, she had merely fallen in due to her usual clumsiness. He had been about to turn and walk away without offering his help, when every muscle in her slight frame had gone as taut as a piano wire. She'd thrashed around suddenly, trying to get away from something in the water. Too late, he saw the translucent form of the jellyfish. Even as he pulled her out as quickly as he could, he'd known that she had already been stung. 

Angry red welts circled her ankle and up the length of her calf. Nicholas bent to examine the stings, wincing inwardly when he noticed that her teeth were chattering badly and her big hazel eyes were bright with pain which he was sure she did not want him to witness. Swiftly arriving at a decision, he scooped her small body up in his arms and carried her back up to the house. For once, she did not attempt to fight him, but simply rested against his chest, trembling.

She was white as newly fallen snow by the time he strode purposefully into the house and straight to the kitchen. Putting her down on the counter next to the sink, he noted that she had finally stopped shaking although her skin still felt clammy and cold.

Swiftly retrieving a small first aid kit from one of the cupboards, he took out some light gauze, a pair of tweezers, a few tablets and a tube of antiseptic cream. After placing the items beside her, he opened a cabinet and extracted a bottle of white vinegar. Nicholas could feel her eyes on him, knew the question which was no doubt forming in her mind.

Without bothering to first warn her, he took hold of her heel, guiding her leg up and gently positioning it over the washbasin. He heard her gasp, either from the pain which the movement caused or from the feel of his palm cupped around her bare foot. Choosing to ignore his own reaction to the intimacy of the contact, he uncapped the vinegar and poured a liberal amount over her ankle and calf. She hissed as the caustic liquid seeped into the stings, but bravely endured the agony without fuss.

He did not hurry the process, making sure that all the reddened patches of skin were thoroughly coated and giving the vinegar enough time to neutralize the toxin in the stings. Once done, he used the tweezers to carefully unwind a long jelly-like tendril that had been wrapped stubbornly around her ankle.

For Miaka, things had become decidedly surreal. The pain from being stung by the jellyfish was quickly being replaced by a different sensation entirely. She bit on her lower lip as her arch-nemesis rinsed the vinegar off and gently dried her wounds with a clean towel. Although he had not voiced a single word, the kindness that he was showing her brought a fresh surge of tears to her eyes. His hands were on her leg again, stroking up her calf as he smoothed the antiseptic cream over the affected areas. All of a sudden, she couldn't seem to breathe properly. When had Nakago turned from hated enemy to knight in shining armour?

Her heart lurched crazily in her chest.

He paused in his ministrations when he felt a shiver go through her. She had not moved, but the muscles in her leg had tensed. Belatedly, he remembered that her clothes were still damp from her unexpected fall into the tidal pool and reasoned that she was probably going into shock. Since undressing her was not an option, he did the next best thing and draped the towel around her. Her eyes were wide and troubled; deep emerald green and glassy with tears as she stared mutely at him. Filling a glass, he handed her the water along with a couple of painkillers. She looked lost and defenceless, like an injured doe…it took every last shred of his rapidly unravelling self-control not to pull her into his arms and hold her close.

His thoughts were dangerous; she was not ready and now was not the time. Forcing himself to focus on what needed to be done, he set about applying a loose gauze bandage to her leg from ankle to knee. By the time he taped everything in place, all trace of emotion had been wiped from his face.

"You will live," he announced flatly, straightening to his full height.

Miaka's pulse skyrocketed when their eyes met and locked. "Nakago…I…" her mouth went dry, the glass of water in her hands forgotten. It was then, between one breath and the next, that a vividly clear vision of herself and a tall blonde man walking down a path lined with sakura trees flashed across her mind. Her hand had been in his, their fingers entwined. They stopped, and he bent to kiss her…

The moment passed, leaving her blinking in confusion, only to realise that the former shogun was standing between her legs, so close that she could feel the heat from his body. Slowly, he lowered his head towards hers in an action which echoed the vision…The tiny part of her that was still sane protested, but that voice was soon overturned. Warm breath whispered over her cheekbone and part of her ear. "Get some rest," he ordered silkily in a dark undertone before calmly stepping back.

Badly shaken, she scrambled down off the counter and fled the kitchen; hobbling to the safety of her bedroom as fast as she could manage.

Nicholas watched her go with an impassive mask firmly in place. It was fortunate that she had been too flustered to notice the swollen bulge behind the fly of his jeans. Arousal warred with honour…He'd almost kissed her, only to remember at the last moment that she still did not have her memories. The Suzaku no Miko was in a very vulnerable state and he would be taking unfair advantage. He had seen the innocent invitation in her eyes, but it was not the way he wanted things to happen between them. If she gave herself to him, he wanted it to be a conscious choice on her part because she loved him (tainted past and all), not because she had been seduced by the idyllic surroundings and a romanticized hero.

He had never been particularly interested in playing the role of Prince Charming. _For one thing_, he reflected humourlessly, _The prince in all those damned fairytales probably would not have needed a cold shower after saving the princess._

* * *

The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight shining in through the open glass doors to the balcony. Gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. She looked around, trying to ascertain what had awakened her when only minutes before, she had been sound asleep. 

She sat up and swung her feet to the floor; gingerly testing the strength of her injured leg before putting her weight on it. Miaka rubbed her hands over her bare arms, suddenly realising how chilly the night air was. It did not take long for the memory of what had transpired in the kitchen to wash over her. An acute sense of shame filled her at her unspeakable _faux pas_. She did not want to imagine how he would react if he ever found out about her vision. The worst thing was, she had the most horrible suspicion that Nakago somehow already _knew_…

Would he guess that he wreaked havoc with her emotions without even trying? Had he seen her embarrassing reaction to what was likely to be his idea of harmless teasing? _Of course he saw! Even a four year old kid would have noticed! _her mental voice sniffed disdainfully. For Nakago to have foregone the opportunity to watch her flounder around like an idiot would have been like...like...

She couldn't think of a suitably heinous parallel. But she knew there had to be one.

The point was, she did not think she would be able to face the inevitable mocking amusement and cutting comments in the morning. This endless exile was wearing her down, eating away at her emotional barriers. She couldn't take much more of this; she had to get out of here before she did something unforgivably stupid. Like fall in love with him. Maybe…

Maybe it was time.

She bit down hard on her lip, her heart thudding so loudly that she was sure it could be heard all the way to Mount Taikyoku. How did one go about seducing a former enemy? Perhaps if she went over to his room and—…_What? Turn up completely naked at his door and jump on him?_ _Tell him "let's just do it"?_ Miaka thought wildly, a hysterical giggle rising in her throat. Dear Suzaku, she sounded like a commercial advertising a popular brand of sporting gear! He would probably laugh at her and kick her out. There would be disgust in his blue eyes. She simply could not bear that.

But maybe…he would understand. He had to. She knew he was capable of gentleness…Nakago's touch had been light, almost caring, as he had tended to her leg. He would be gentle if she asked him to be, and leave her with a beautiful memory rather than what it truly was: a desperate bid to get back to their own world. It was likely that she would never see him again once they returned, but perhaps for just one night, she could pretend…

That he loved her and she loved him.

She limped to the closet before she could change her mind and tugged open one of the drawers, rummaging through the contents until she found what she was looking for. The amber silk negligee and matching briefs slithered through her fingers, the material so thin and light that it seemed almost weightless. With unsteady hands, she stripped off the flannel pyjamas she was wearing, shivering as the cool silk whispered over her skin. It settled over her curves, clinging lovingly to her breasts and hips.

Feeling like a thief in the night, she made her way slowly down the corridor. She paused uncertainly outside the library, indecision and anxiety churning inside her stomach. The door just ahead was Nakago's. _What on earth am I doing? _her mind screeched. There was still a chance to turn back, to return to her room with her dignity—and virginity—intact. She hugged herself, suddenly losing her nerve.

Maybe…she needed to think a bit more about this.

* * *

Nicholas woke up abruptly, his senses fully alert, when he heard the muffled thud of something hitting the floor. The sound had come from the library next door. Since there was no one else in the house, it could only be the Suzaku no Miko. Glancing at the luminous hands of his watch on the nightstand, he wondered what she could be doing at two o'clock in the morning. Guilt at the way he had played with the poor girl's mind in the kitchen earlier rose up, threatening his control. _Now is not the time, _he told himself, methodically tamping down on the inconvenient emotion. He debated whether he should investigate, and finally came to the conclusion that it would be safer if he did. Knowing her propensity for getting into trouble, it was entirely possible that she might have hurt herself somehow. 

Pulling on a pair of linen drawstring trousers, he left his room and proceeded to the library to find the door slightly ajar. Light spilled through the crack into the hallway. Steeling himself for a confrontation, he cautiously pushed open the door and stepped through. Two things were immediately apparent. First of all, the Suzaku no Miko was wearing a scandalously short nightgown which barely reached the tops of her thighs. While not the most provocative item of lingerie he had ever seen on a woman, what little there was of it was intensely feminine and the shimmering colour suited her. Secondly, she really did have a very good body despite the amount of food she consumed.

She turned around as he entered the small cozy room. His narrowed eyes took in the cut-crystal glass which was lying on its side on the carpeted floor before going back to her flushed face. Nicholas was careful not to let his gaze linger on any other part of her body; an endeavour which was proving exceedingly difficult. Unless he was very much mistaken, she did not appear to be wearing anything under that scrap of silk which was masquerading as nightwear.

Even with her injured leg, the Suzaku no Miko closed the distance between them with a loose-limbed grace he had never seen her display in all the time he had known her. Her magnificent eyes were a sultry golden-green, huge and unnaturally bright. He stood shock-still as she embraced him like a woman greeting her lover, wrapping her arms around his waist with a sensuous sigh. She smelled so warm, so inviting…like fresh strawberries and brandy. For the second time in less than a day, desire slammed into him, hot and fierce. He felt the undeniable response stirring in his own body…a reaction which the soft fabric of his trousers did nothing to conceal.

_Damn her. _All of the mental and physical discipline which he had honed during his lifetime as the cold unfeeling shogun was being severely tested by one small _virgin _miko. He wanted to lower her down onto the thick carpet, divest her of that flimsy piece of cloth and teach her the pleasure of being with a man…

The pressure in his groin increased until it was verging on pain.

"You do not want to do this, Suzaku no Miko," he ground out harshly. The half empty decanter on the table behind her and the glass on the floor testified to what the priestess had been up to. "It is generally not a good idea to attempt seduction when you are not in full control of all your faculties."

"Huh? Con-…trol?" Miaka blinked up at him, looking adorably like a befuddled baby owl. The priestess was well and truly sloshed. Nicholas doubted that she had understood even a quarter of what he'd said in her current condition…

And she was still clinging to him like a limpet to its favourite rock. Her hands glided down his back, stroking sensitive skin with a husky purr of appreciation. Even a monk would have been tempted. He was not a monk, but he was still a man…one who had been celibate for far too long. Letting out a slow breath, he allowed himself a brief moment to savour the feel of her lithe body pressed against his.

"I thought it would be easier for us like this…we can do it and you can finally get back to your own life without me to bother you," she said, her manner suddenly very serious. The dam holding back her emotions crumbled, and the alcohol-induced honesty came welling up, "I know you would probably prefer to go to bed with anyone rather than me. I'm sorry you were forced into this situation by the fates and that hentai old witch…I'm sorry you weren't given a choice." The miko seemed almost sober except for the fact that she slurred the words ever so slightly. "This will be my first time, so please be gentle…"

He wasn't sure whether the liquor was responsible for her behaviour or whether it had merely suspended her inhibitions temporarily. He hoped that it was the latter, because that meant that she felt something more towards him. Nevertheless, whichever it was, decency dictated that he put a stop to it before her hands reached their intended destination. Somehow, he doubted that she would be happy to find out that she had groped him while under the influence. Would she behave this way with any other male? Anger at her foolishness flared as he resisted the vicious urge to shake her until her teeth rattled. One would think that she had learned her lesson after that incident in his tent in Hokkan.

There was one fundamental difference though…he had not been in love with her then. Now, he could not bring himself to hurt her in such a manner again. However, no matter what he felt for her, throwing away the precious gift of her virginity in a moment of carelessness was something he could not condone. _Of all the irresponsible—…_had he been anyone else, including that pretty boy pop idol seishi of hers, he might have taken her up on her offer!

"You are completely useless to me if you are drunk," Nicholas laced the words with as much stinging contempt as he could. Hopefully they would snap her out of it…

"Don't you want me?" she whispered plaintively, pink mouth shaped into a amazingly sexy pout.

All his honourable intentions were nearly consigned to oblivion when the tiny priestess languidly trailed her soft lips across his bare chest. For someone who blushed at the mere mention of sex, she seemed to have an inspired grasp of how to make him burn for her. If this continued, neither he nor her virginity was going to last very long. Firmly extricating himself from her tight embrace, he seized her wrists, removing her hands from where they had were just about to slide under the low waistband of his trousers.

She swayed and would have slumped to the floor if he had not caught her. Mouth compressed into a tight line, he briefly considered leaving her to sleep off her intoxication on the floor of the library. In the end however, he vented a single heartfelt expletive and carried her limp form back to her room. Despite his annoyance at her reckless actions, he carefully arranged her on the bed and drew the sheet up to her shoulders.

He stood silently looking down at her for several long minutes before turning away, fighting against both the tender urge to stay with her and the throbbing demands of his treacherous libido. The little baka had played with fire tonight, coming dangerously close to getting burned. She should have had more sense than to get drunk. Now she was going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning and she thoroughly deserved it for all the discomfort she was putting him through.

Walking stiffly back to his own room, he locked the bedroom door in case she tried her seduction techniques on him again. It was as much for his sake as it was for hers. He would not be able to resist her a second time tonight.

_(Don't you want me?) _

Her last question taunted him mercilessly. He leaned against the door and closed his eyes; his aching, overheated body trembling with the need for release.

Nicholas allowed himself a small, bitter smile, _More than you'll ever know._

_

* * *

**You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest, is up to them. **_

**---Anonymous**

The pink elephants wearing steel-toed boots in her skull wouldn't let her sleep. And a bright shaft of sunlight stabbed into her eyes the moment she opened them, searing directly into her brain.

To make things worse, her mouth tasted like something small and furry had died in it.

She moaned and attempted to sit up. The oddly coloured elephants in her head each grew another set of feet and launched into a tap-dance musical of epic proportions. Everything in the room seemed to spin around her, causing her stomach to heave alarmingly.

Miaka clapped a hand over her mouth and lunged for the bathroom.

As she rested her aching forehead against the cool porcelain of the toilet bowl several minutes later, she realised how undignified she must look and how disgusting she probably smelled. The marble floor tiles felt cold and strangely soothing against her bottom and bare legs…she looked down at herself for the first time, aghast, as a hazy memory of the previous night materialised. _Oh. My. God…_The silk nightie was bunched around her waist, and the minuscule thong under it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. With mounting panic, she shot a worried glance at the open bathroom door. If Nakago came in and saw her like this…

Her mind chose that precise moment to kick in, supplying her with broken flashes of last night's horrendous debacle. She might as well find a hole she could crawl into so that she could shrivel up and die of embarrassment. What little she could piece together revolved around the fact that she had practically thrown herself at her former enemy! _Please Seiryuu, kindly kill me now!_ Miaka let out another moan (this time one of humiliation), burying her hot face in her hands when she realised that the blonde shogun had already witnessed her make a complete and utter fool of herself.

She'd not intended to drink so much. When she had gone into the library to rethink her course of action, she had noticed the full decanter of brandy sitting on one of the side tables. Liquid courage…she had poured herself a glass, thinking that it would help calm her nerves for what lay ahead. It had tasted awful, burning a trail down her throat to her empty stomach. Once there, however, it had warmed her from the inside. The next mouthful had been a little better, but not much. By the fifth and sixth gulp, she was feeling pleasantly warm, and the pain in her leg had dulled slightly. Then, she remembered pouring herself another glass…

And another…

Levering herself upright, she staggered to the wash basin and turned on the tap. Amid splashing water into her face, she stared at the mirror. The girl looking back at her was not someone she recognised. Ghostly pale skin, dark-ringed bloodshot eyes…_I look like hell…_

Since she had woken up in bed alone and still somewhat dressed, coupled with the fact that they were still obviously stuck in this reality, she could only deduce that nothing had happened with Nakago. Either he had been too disgusted at the prospect of sleeping with her to succumb to her disastrous attempt at seduction, or he'd been much too honourable to take advantage of her drunken willingness.

_Probably the first option,_ she thought morosely.

She felt marginally better after brushing her teeth and taking a shower, which she somehow managed without any serious mishaps despite the splitting headache and nausea. Wrapped in a thick bathrobe, Miaka stumbled back to the bed and sunk down, barely making it before another wave of dizziness hit. Her head hurt so badly, and it seemed like her stomach was attempting to tie itself into a complicated obi knot. To add on to the miserable state of affairs, the jellyfish stings in her leg had started hurting again as well.

_I am never touching alcohol again, _she vowed fervently. _What was I even thinking? Yuuki Miaka, you are such an idiot! I should know better, after what happened with Tasuki at the inn…_she paused at the memory of Tasuki pinning her down, spitting hurtful accusations at her. He'd tried to—…

But Nakago had come to her rescue, protecting her from her own seishi. There had been some sort of conversation after…something about loyalty, forgiveness and white cherry blossoms. _Had all that really happened? If so, when? _She attempted to focus on it, but that only made her head hurt even more. Yet, there was a tightness in her chest, as if a part of her remembered even though her mind could not. A strange sense of sadness and regret…_for Nakago?_

How was that possible?

The door opened without warning, and the object of her thoughts strode in without bothering to wait for an invitation. She reflexively clutched at the neckline of the bathrobe, thankful that she had tied the belt tightly. Wordlessly, he set the tray down on the nightstand. Miaka stared at the mug of what looked like tea and the plate of dry toast he'd brought, before lifting her eyes up to the meet the flinty glacial blue of his.

Silence filled the room, so thick and heavy that even the sound of the waves outside appeared to have stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to say something. Miaka licked her dry lips, "Nakago…about last night…I didn't mean to—" she stammered uncomfortably, searching for something to say which would not sound entirely pathetic.

Her taciturn house-mate saved her from having to finish her sentence, interrupting her curtly, "Last night, Suzaku no Miko, was a piece of criminal stupidity. It was incredibly foolish, even by your standards."

She flinched at the barb. It did not take a genius to deduce that he was angry. While other people burned with rage, Nakago's anger was icy cold like the arctic wind. The colour drained from her face and her stomach felt as if it was about to rebel once again. It was becoming harder to keep from throwing up as the room seemed to fade in and out. "G-Gomen Nasai…" she whispered thinly, trying to fend off the sensation of being at sea in a very small boat as the pounding in her skull grew fiercer. He did not respond, and she wondered dimly if he had heard her. She tried again, "Gomen—"

She was vaguely surprised when something was placed in her hand; she looked down to find the mug of tea there.

"I heard you the first time," he said abruptly, "Drink it."

It belatedly occurred to her that he had concocted a remedy for her hangover. Knowing the erstwhile leader of the Seiryuu seishi, chances were that it was going to taste nasty. He'd probably made it that way just to teach her a lesson. Or maybe he had finally reached the end of his patience and was now about to poison her. Not daring to question what he had put into the tea, she brought the mug to her lips and took a cautious sip, bracing herself for the unpleasant tongue-curling flavour.

A second later, Miaka found that she could not have been further from the truth. The tea was a aromatic blend of peppermint, lemon and rosemary, with honey to sweeten it. It seemed to be just the thing she needed, serving to clear her mind and settle her stomach. She closed her eyes and inhaled the hot fragrant steam; glad for the excuse not to have to meet his piercing appraisal. It was cowardly, but she could not bear to see the condemnation in his eyes.

The sound of his footsteps as he left her room prompted her to slowly lift her head. Nakago's rejection was as clear as a slap in the face. The cold words he'd said to her this morning—and she'd deserved every single one of them—had carved up her heart into a thousand tiny pieces. Why did it hurt so much?

What he thought of her should not have mattered, like water off a duck's back.

Okay, so he wasn't evil personified.

Far from it, in fact.

_Oh no…It can't be! This cannot be happening! _Miaka's eyes clouded as she came to the gut-wrenching realisation that she was falling hopelessly in love with the person who had taught her economics, who so gently treated her wounds, and who cooked such delicious meals for her.

He had shaken the foundations of everything she had thought she knew. Correction…he had _knocked_ all her pre-conceived notions clean off their supports. All by simply being kind. He'd shown her a glimpse of the type of man he _was_ and the kind of man he _could_ be…someone whom she found herself very much attracted to.

Unwilling tears of distress trickled down her cheeks to drip off her chin. She had not wanted things to turn out this way…had not thought it remotely possible! But it _had_ happened against all odds, and she understood her own heart well enough to know how she truly felt. Knew, with a sinking sense of icy dread, that it wasn't something she would be able to push aside. Worse still was the absolute certainty that he did not feel the same way about her and never would. Her love for him was doomed to be unrequited. Why would he want a clumsy, gauche high-school student like her when he could have any number of beautiful, sophisticated women at his beck and call? And after last night, she had probably destroyed the tenuous friendship which they'd managed to build over the last three weeks.

"Do you not like the tea?"

The sudden intrusion of his voice caused her to jerk her head upwards so violently that she almost gave herself a bad case of whiplash. The hot liquid sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the ceramic mug. When had he come back in? He had been inconsiderate enough not to have made any noise which would have announced his presence. Then again, maybe she had been too preoccupied to hear…

"N-No! I m-mean yes!" She clamped both hands around the mug, hating the way they trembled. Hated _him _for being nice to her. Why did it have to be him? Damn him for asking an impossible question. "The tea is fine! What makes you think I don't like it?" She'd intended the words to be cool and indifferent, but they simply came out sounding shaken and anxious. Turning her face away, she made a show of gulping down the rest of the tea, scalding her tongue in the process. _Please don't let him notice… _

"Because," he pointed out dryly, "You were crying into it."

Miaka opened her mouth to deny his observation, but no sound emerged, because she no longer had any vocal cords. The last thing she saw was the genuine surprise in Nakago's cerulean eyes as he too, like her, dissolved into a golden mist.

A short while later, a small gust of wind stirred the filmy gauze curtains framing the elegant glass doors leading out to the balcony. Outside, a breathtaking view of the cliffs and a narrow strip of black sand beach bordered the vast, shimmering turquoise ocean. The picture would have been perfect, and could easily have come straight out of a romance novel, except for the presence of two slices of rapidly cooling toast left on the nightstand and an empty ceramic mug lying forgotten among the rumpled bed sheets.

Fate smiled down at the peaceful scene. Destiny had been fulfilled…and about time too. The future had waited long enough.

* * *

Notes: 

1) The scene where Miaka gets drunk and attempts to seduce Nakago/Nicholas is inspired by the one from _Hatred's Binds _by Nel! Many thanks to her for letting me use it!

2) The title of this chapter comes from Ophelia's speech in "Hamlet", my favourite Shakespearean tragedy! (Sorry, but I think "Romeo & Juliet" is vastly overrated…)

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;  
Pray, love, remember;  
And there are pansies, that's for thoughts.  
There's fennel for you, and columbines.  
There's rue for you; and here's some for me  
We may call it herb-grace o' Sundays  
O you must wear your rue with a difference.  
There's a daisy: I would give you some violets,  
But they wither'd all when my father died.

I could not resist using the idea of Nakago bringing Miaka rosemary infused tea (in bed!). Apparently, it is quite helpful in lessening the effects of a hangover. It also echoes the fact that he hopes that she will regain her memory and remember what they had together before her amnesia.

3) Miaka is beginning to regain some of her memories, the visions she gets are becoming clearer and more frequent: Tasuki's drunken attempt to rape her at the inn, from _Walking A Thin Line_, and the scene from Chapters 3 & 4 of this story, when Nicholas kissed her in the middle of Ueno Park.

4) _Ceteris Paribus_ is Latin for All Other Things Remaining Equal. It's a term used in economics. I originally used it as the working title for this chapter.

5) Wondering why Fate let them go without them actually having sex? Because this is a PG13 rated fic, despite what Taiitsukun says! Hehheh…actually, it will be explained in the next chapter. (Alcestis ducks the eggs, turnips and pitchforks being thrown at her) There was something very specific which had to be accomplished, and once that had been achieved, they would be sent back to their own world. See if you can spot what it is…?


	12. Do I Make You Proud?

**Chapter 12: Do I Make You Proud?**

Someone must have made a mistake, because whomever was responsible for transporting her so suddenly from the beautiful house overlooking the sea had also re-assembled her inside out…Or at least it certainly_ felt_ that way.

Miaka gagged violently, barely preventing herself from throwing up all over the expensive pair of leather shoes nearby. Uncaring that she was not alone, she allowed herself to crumple unceremoniously into a panting, retching ball against one wall. She dropped her head to rest on her knees, slowly willing her rebelling stomach under control.

Time seemed to stretch out endlessly, until she became aware of a shadow falling over her. Cautiously, she lifted her head, and was rewarded with the sight of the last person she wanted to be stuck in an elevator with. Especially now, when she was still reeling from the shocking realisation that she had fallen hook, line and sinker for the one man _on the face of the planet _with whom she had no possibility of a future...And also not forgetting that she could throw up all over him (_and_ his shoes) at any given moment! She could not even derive any satisfaction from the fact that his face had taken on an uncharacteristic pallor, the skin around his mouth appearing grey. _He looks almost as ill as I feel…_Somehow, finding out that Nakago had (for once) come out of this faring only slightly better than her, did not make Miaka any happier.

It also did not help that her school uniform was still damp from the rain. Her eyes widened as she looked down to find that she was back in the clothes which she'd been wearing the day Fate had decided to mess up her life, and not the bathrobe which she'd had on when they had been snatched out of their seaside exile. A measure of relief filtered through her misery. The odds were that Keisuke would not understand if she turned up late in the evening wearing nothing except a bathrobe, in the company of the hunky blonde shogun...never mind that Nakago was supposed to be her worst enemy! Her brother would no doubt jump to the wrong conclusion. In her current fractured emotional state, Miaka did not think she had the strength to deal with his well-meaning concern or righteous anger.

Between them, the Shijintenchisho lay open on the floor, exactly where it had fallen three weeks—or a few seconds, depending on one's point of view—earlier. With trembling hands, she reached out for it.

The elevator lurched into motion.

Mercifully, the doors slid open a few seconds later, and Miaka needed no second invitation. She bolted out of the small compartment with her satchel and the Book of the Four Gods—which she'd hastily slammed shut—in case Fate or Taiitsukun changed their minds and decided to transport her somewhere else…Like say, a monster-infested watch-tower in the middle of the Sairo desert.

Not stopping until she arrived in front of the apartment, she tried to open the door but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't even seem to fit the key into the lock. She could sense Nakago closing the distance between them in a manner uncomfortably similar to a predator stalking its prey…

Without a word, he took the keys from her suddenly nerveless fingers and unlocked the door for her before she could stop him.

"Miaka-chan? Is that you?" Keisuke called from somewhere inside the apartment. Footsteps heralded his approach.

Her grip on the Shijintenchisho tightened, "Okaeri…" she said weakly, her voice barely a whisper of sound. She was so very tired…All her defences were crumbling, her self-respect and control in shreds. Hot tears burned at the back of her throat, and suddenly, the ache in her battered soul became too much for her to bear…

"You're late today—…_Whoa!_ Miaka, are you alright? _What happened?_" Keisuke staggered backwards when his sister dropped her books and school bag on the floor and hurled herself into his arms. He soon found himself the recipient of a hug so tight that he swore he heard his ribs cracking. His breath caught when he spotted the silent presence in the doorway just behind her. "Nicholas?" For a moment, he thought that everything was back to the way it had been before the kidnapping; that his sister had regained her memories and had sought out the tall Seiryuu seishi…

…Until it abruptly dawned upon him that it was not the case. Something was wrong. Miaka's former enemy was standing unnaturally still; the handsome, chiselled features hard as granite. Keisuke had gotten used to seeing the impassive mask which the other man usually donned, but this one was not just blank, it was damned near _impenetrable_. The shock of seeing Nicholas again for the first time in over two months was swiftly eclipsed by frantic concern when he felt the first shudder rip through his sister's slight body as she sagged against him.

The erstwhile Seiryuu general met his questioning glare with an air of aloof detachment, "Good evening, Keisuke." The greeting was formal, stripped of anything that might have passed for emotion. Nicholas' eyes shifted almost imperceptibly to Miaka, and for a split-second, Keisuke thought he saw a flicker of _something_ in the cold silver-blue depths.

And then, Nicholas was gone. The blonde man swiftly turned and walked back down the hallway with his customary jungle-cat stealth, leaving an extremely confused Keisuke alone to comfort the tiny russet-haired miko who clung to him and sobbed as if her heart was broken.

* * *

_Life goes on_…how she had come to hate that phrase. Nakago had not come back. Not to check on her to see how she was doing, not even to pass some snide comment about how all his good work in tutoring her was probably going to waste. Oh, life did indeed go on, but no one had warned her how much it would _hurt_. Knowing that he felt nothing for her and that he had probably already moved on with his own life… 

The thought of him spending it with someone else was slowly killing her. She imagined that he would be with someone who complimented his social status and good looks. A glamorous model, perhaps. In order to prevent herself from dwelling on such thoughts, she feverishly threw herself into her exam revision to keep her mind busy…and yet they crept back in to haunt her in her most unguarded moments late at night in the realm of her dreams.

She had not told Yui and Keisuke the whole story; only the most superficial details, and even then, she'd glossed it over with a bright plastic smile accompanied by laughter which sounded just as fake. When Keisuke had gently brought up the issue of her emotional breakdown, she had insisted that the tears had been those of joy and relief, because she had almost given up hope of ever returning to this world. How easily the lies had tripped off her tongue! Miaka hated herself for keeping things from them, but she just wasn't ready to face their well-meaning concern, or worse still, their pity. And hence the charade which she put up for her friends and family…because it was too painful for her to admit to them that she had fallen in love with the enemy…

She felt drained physically, mentally and emotionally. Today, she had sat for her last exam, the last paper she would ever write as a high school student…It was fitting that it was Economics. Her last link to him. She'd scribbled the answers down like a person possessed, handed in the scripts and quietly slipped out of the examination hall forty-five minutes before the bell rang.

It was only when she was safely outside the school gates, did she let the tears fall.

* * *

She was not entirely sure how she ended up at Ueno Park. Her feet guided her along a path which curved through the sakura trees. As she stood, gazing up at the branches overhead, it suddenly occurred to her that she had seen this place before…in the vision she'd had when Nakago had been treating the jellyfish stings on her leg. 

Dropping to her knees, she buried her face in her hands. Her sub-conscious had been unspeakably cruel, conjuring up what she had come to realise as her dearest wish; taunting her with something that could never be. _He cares nothing for you…he was nice to you while inside the Book probably because he was bored, _her mental voice asserted harshly. There was a hollowness inside her…as if Nakago, not content with stealing her heart, had also stolen her soul.

"It's about time you stopped moping around, Suzaku no Miko!" A gratingly familiar voice caused her to stiffen.

"Oh joy…" she muttered through gritted teeth as she got to her feet, "Can't you even leave me to cry in peace?" She was still furious with Taiitsukun for lying to her. It convinced her that the Gods and the Fates were merely amusing themselves at her expense, and it was not something she took kindly to. Miaka's fists clenched at her sides. _This miko is through with playing games and jumping through hoops_, she vowed darkly.

The Overseer studied the russet-haired young woman carefully, reading the thoughts that went through the miko's mind. The one who stood before her was no longer the same person who first entered the Shijintenchisho as barely more than a child. Miaka had come a long way since then; she had known friendship and hate, and had experienced love. The witch narrowed her eyes, "You're angry that I led you to believe that you had to have sex with him to get back to this world." The statement of fact was made without preamble.

The miko glared, "No kidding," she snapped, red-rimmed hazel eyes flashing with anger. "What was the point of that exercise anyway? We got sent back here without having to—"

Taiitsukun interrupted her tirade with a dismissive wave, "The point wasn't about the two of you becoming intimate. If you recall, I never actually said anything about that…_YOU_ simply_ assumed_ that you had to. In fact, you could have bonked each other in all the positions of the Kama Sutra and still be stuck there!"

A scorching wave of heat washed over her pale cheeks at the old hag's blunt declaration, but Taiitsukun did not give her a chance to speak. Irritably, the deity continued, giving her a baleful look which people reserved especially for incontinent puppies, "For heaven's sake, girl! What did you notice about him in the time you spent together? You watch, but you do not see. You hear, but you do not listen!" The witch paused, and the stern expression on the wrinkled face softened slightly as she began fading out of existence, " Open your eyes, Suzaku no Miko, as you have opened your heart!"

"Tai…Taiitsukun! Wait!" Miaka yelled, wanting to ask more questions, but it was too late, the cranky being who presided over the Universe of the Four Gods was gone. That disappearing trick of Taiitsukun's was fast becoming a close contender for the top spot on Miaka's list of pet peeves. Right up there next to "Sinfully handsome blonde shoguns who try to kill your friends" and "Bus drivers who purposely speed up when they see you running towards the bus-stop".

Biting her lip, she stood unmoving for a long moment, replaying the conversation in her mind. The ugly old goddess' words set her thinking…what had the Fates and Taiitsukun wanted her to see in Nakago that they had gone to such extreme lengths to trap them together? They had intended for her to fall in love with him, that much was clear. But why? What had she missed? The sneaking suspicion that the answers to everything lay tied up in her lost memories was becoming too strong to ignore…

There was no telling how much time had passed, but eventually, she was realised that she was tired of feeling sorry for herself. "Miaka no Baka…" she whispered fiercely, "I'm such an idiot…to fall in love with him…" Not that she could have helped it, any more than she could have stopped the sun from rising in the east every morning. There was no use crying over spilt milk, and Yuuki Miaka had never been one to take things lying down. It had taken a while for her to remember that part of herself; the person who had stood up to Nakago's ruthlessness…the same girl who had taken on Tenkou and won!

Miaka staggered and sagged against the nearest tree as her mind struggled to cope with the sudden weight of the new — _old _— memories.

_Tenkou!_ The once ghostly images unfolded in her mind and solidified. Where previously it had only been a story told to her by Yui and Keisuke, she finally remembered _living _it. What she had seen, all that she had felt…her grief when Tamahome had died; her awe and sadness as she had stood atop that cliff watching the setting sun, listening to Nakago speak so dispassionately about his past…

The iron-willed determination not to lose…and they _had_ made it, mostly because of Nakago. He was a cold, arrogant jerk, but he'd helped her summon Suzaku a second time, even risking his life to protect hers.

A part of the immense puzzle clicked together. No wonder Keisuke, Yui and Tetsuya had been so ready to welcome him into their midst. He had their trust, and hers as well, because he'd _earned_ it many times over. The memory of him being mercilessly tortured by Tenkou made her want to weep all over again.

_How could I have forgotten something so important?_ she berated herself. Hiding in her shell (which had been precisely what she'd been doing for the last few weeks) would not get her anywhere, she decided as she slowly made her way out of the park. Whatever happened, Yuuki Miaka was not going to let life pass her by. Come hell or high water, she was going to start living again, beginning _now_...

* * *

Miaka's voice could be heard just down the hall, alerting the Seiryuu no Miko to her approach. She sat down on her bed and gripped the handset a bit tighter. 

"What's the situation like now?" Taka sounded carefully neutral over the telephone.

"Well…they're getting along like a house on fire," Yui muttered in an extremely disgruntled manner. No, the Seiryuu no Miko was _not_ happy at the way things were turning out. Andy had become a frequent visitor to the Yuuki residence. Despite his busy concert schedule, he often shuttled between China and Japan whenever he could, just to see Miaka. Couldn't Miaka see that she was _with the wrong man_?

_And I'm certifiably insane for even wanting her to end up with someone who probably won't be able to bring himself to tell her he loves her, _the fair-haired girl thought grimly. Either that, or else she was a die-hard romantic who believed that opposites did attract and only loves sprung out of only hates. Nakago probably had enough of his own personal demons to fight without everyone criticising his decision to keep his distance from the one person who had managed to melt the ice around his heart. Yui suspected that the only thing which held the darkness in his soul at bay was what he felt for the Suzaku no Miko. As for Miaka, out of everyone, she was the one who most deserved to be happy. If happiness meant being with Nakago, then Yui was more than willing to gave her friend a push in that direction.

In fact, the urgency to give Miaka that push was mounting. Yui knew that the time had come to do something which would either make her an enemy of her closest friend, or would earn her Miaka's undying gratitude.

Blowing her bangs out of her face, the dragon priestess sighed and prepared to travel the certifiably insane route. "I know he's your friend and comrade, Taka, but it's…wrong. She was in love with Nicholas before Ashitare kidnapped her. What if she ends up marrying Andy then suddenly remembers? The guilt will be too much for her to bear. She would try her best to forget her feelings and try to make the marriage work, of course…but it wouldn't be fair to either of her or Andy. They'd both be hurt. And Nicholas…" she shuddered, "He's not quite the same man as Nakago, but he will not forgive. Neither will he forget. Not even for her."

Hearing the sound of footsteps coming closer, she spoke rapidly, promising to keep him updated and rang off, not a moment too soon, it seemed. Miaka stuck her head into the room, "Yui-chan, what are you doing?"

"Nothing much…just relaxing…" she answered as she languidly stretched and pretended to give a huge yawn.

Her faux yawn turned into a squeal as Miaka took the opportunity to tickle her sides. "Hey! St—stop it! Miaaaaakaaaaa!" Yui tried to squirm off the bed, her fingers went for the other girl's flank, determined to exact revenge.

Minutes later after many loud shrieks and giggles, both girls lay on the bed gasping for breath. Yui prodded the unmoving figure beside her with a foot, "Oi, are you still alive?"

The other miko did not open her eyes, but snaked out a hand, grabbed the foot in question and ran her nails along the bottom, causing Yui to dissolve once again into helpless giggles. When Yui finally regained possession of her foot, she immediately tucked it under the blanket as Miaka propped herself up against the headboard, looking smug, "Repeat after me, Yuuki Miaka is the Tickle Queen!"

Aiming a mock glare at her counterpart, the Seiryuu priestess drawled, "How old are you, Your Highness? Eight?" She winced slightly, "My sides ache, I haven't laughed this hard in ages, since…"

"Since we were in middle school, before the Book," Miaka finished softly and added, "You needed it, I think." Despite the apparent seriousness of the words, there was an enigmatic smile hovering over her lips.

_You needed it more than I did, _Yui retorted mentally, but kept her thoughts to herself. She could not put her finger on it, but that smile was…odd. In fact, come to think of it, Miaka had become extremely hard to read of late, ever since the end of the exams. Yui did not know what had happened between the phoenix priestess and the former shogun or why Miaka's smiles never quite reached her eyes anymore, but what she did know was that her bubbly, care-free friend no longer wore her true heart on her sleeve. Whatever that _thing_ she tried to pass off as a heart was, it did not fool someone who had known her since they were both toddlers. The Suzaku no Miko still laughed and whined over silly things and ate a lot, but there was something not quite natural about it. As if she was _forcing _herself to be happy; had probably deceived her own mind into believing that everything was okay. There were times however, when Miaka's face would blank out for an instant before the sunny smile returned.

Everyone had observed how she only seemed truly relaxed with the former emperor, and how close they had become. More worryingly, there had been no mention of Nakago.

Yui reminded herself of her mission, "Let's go to that new Korean barbecue place in town for dinner," she said casually, hoping to talk some sense into Miaka _before_ Andy got to her.

Unfortunately, the other girl shook her head apologetically, "Sorry, I'm supposed to have dinner with Hotohori tonight, but he wouldn't tell me where he's bringing me. He only said to wear something pretty…" Miaka wrinkled her nose, "I need to borrow a dress from you."

_Oh no! Damn! That Suzaku seishi sure moves fast! _Yui felt her brain kick into high gear…she knew what the pop star was up to. By chance, she'd seen him in a store earlier today. He had been unaware of her gaze as he had been too intent on making his purchase…A very expensive purchase from the looks of it. She had to admit that he certainly wasn't dragging his feet when it came to Miaka. Pasting a stern look on her face to cover the unease that was welling up, she folded her arms and shook her head, "No! You always end up ruining my clothes!"

"Come on, Yui…pretty please? I promise to take good care of it!" Miaka pleaded, hazel eyes wide and innocent.

She opened her mouth to deliver a scathing comment about how difficult it was to get bloodstains out of clothes (which was what happened the last time she'd loaned Miaka anything), but changed her mind before she could give voice to it. Instead, she silently went to her closet and took out a delicately layered chiffon dress. Ignoring the exclamations of admiration and delight, Yui looked at her best friend intently and slowly held out the dress, "On one condition, Miaka…Promise me that you won't make any life changing decisions tonight."

* * *

_What happens now has happened in the past, what will happen in the future has happened before. God makes the same things happen again and again._

**—Ecclesiastes 3:15**

She swept her gaze around one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. The wall of glass windows offered a breathtaking view of the glittering city lights. She was wearing a beautiful dress and was escorted by the most handsome of men…she had not missed the flare of male appreciation in his golden eyes when he had picked her up from her home. By all rights, she should have felt on top of the world, but all she could think about was Yui's strange behaviour earlier and the equally unusual promise the Seiryuu no Miko had extracted from her.

And Nakago.

Always Nakago. He was never far from her thoughts, however hard she tried to forget. His face tormented her in her dreams, and in every waking moment. She clung to the memory of their quest against Tenkou and their time together in the house by the sea, knowing that everyday she fell a little more deeply in love with him. The blonde shogun's continued absence and indifference hurt unimaginably, but she could not bring herself to seek him out without having all her memories intact… without knowing what sort of relationship she'd had with him before her amnesia.

"You seem distracted," Hotohori's smooth, cultured voice broke into her musings. "A yen for your thoughts?"

Miaka started slightly, realising she had been gazing sightlessly out into the night sky for several minutes and ignoring her dinner companion. She cleared her throat sheepishly and poked at a spear of asparagus on her plate, "Gomen…I just had a sense of déjà vu…like I've been here before."

Hotohori's mouth tightened, his elegant musician's hands clenched briefly into fists but released almost instantly, "This was where we first met again." He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to step out onto a stage. The unease she had been feeling since the beginning of the evening morphed into full-blown shock as he slowly slid a small box across the table, "Open it," he said softly. "Accept this, Miaka…_accept me_."

The world around her seemed to stop, waiting for her response. It was impossible to look away from the object in front of her. Her trembling fingertips brushed over the velvet covering as she lifted the lid, and the true enormity of what he was asking loomed over her. Numbly, she stared at the ring nestled in its bed of white satin, and suddenly, Yui's strangely prophetic words came back to her.

_- -Promise me that you won't make any life changing decisions tonight.- -_

Somehow, her best friend had known…

She acknowledged that she had been spending a great deal of time with Hotohori lately, because he was always willing to lend a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. They had shared with each other their hopes, dreams, and innermost fears. She had told no one except him about what had happened during her exile inside the Book, and had even confided in him how she felt about Nakago. Sympathetic and understanding, he dragged her out with him, insisting that she accompany him on shopping expeditions and meals, keeping her company whenever he could without making any demands on her. A flood of shame accompanied the realisation that she had been taking advantage of his gentle concern, especially when deep down, she had always known how much he cared about her. It must have had been difficult for him to listen to her talking about the blonde Seiryuu seishi who had killed him in a past life, yet he had comforted her whenever her feelings for his mortal enemy overwhelmed her. _Why is he doing this? He knows I'm in love with Nakago…_

"Hotohori…I…" she stammered, replacing the box on the table with shaking hands. The large diamond solitaire sparkled accusingly up at her. It must have cost him a fortune.

Her former seishi reached across the table, covering her hand with his own, "Please Miaka…will you at least think about it? We can make this work, I know we can! I'll tell my record company to cut back on the publicity and the concerts so that we can spend more time together!"

It hurt to look at him and see the pain in his golden eyes. She knew exactly how he felt. After all, she too, was in love with someone who could never love her in return. _Demo, I have to make him see… _She gently withdrew her hand from his, composing her thoughts before beginning in a low voice, "I remember reading in a book, how everything in the universe follows a cycle, from the stars and planets, to people. For humans, the time it takes to complete one cycle is about 25 million years. Starting from now, when 25 million years pass by, everything will come round full circle…like a clock being reset. We will be born again; grow up making the same decisions we made before. All the things we are going through now, we will go through again later…and we will meet the same people we once met before."

She smiled, but her expression was tinged with sadness. It made Andy realise how lovely she had become…and how very far out of his reach. Miaka had finally grown into the role of the Suzaku no Miko. As a young lonely prince cloistered in the palace, he'd always imagined the priestess to be beautiful, dignified and wise beyond her years…and now, seeing her like this, his boyhood fantasy come to life, made him wish for the old Miaka back. He missed the cheerful, simple girl who tripped over her own feet.

Playing along, he forced his voice to be calm, "So in 25 million years, we will both be sitting in this very same restaurant, having this conversation?"

Luminous hazel eyes held his for a long moment, "Yes," she nodded slowly, "And my answer to your question will be the same…" His beloved miko looked down at her barely touched entrée; her next words confirming what he had suspected all along, "…because I think I'll still be in love with him."

Andy took a sip of his wine, the excellent vintage now tasting sharp and bitter on his tongue, "Is he really worth it?" he asked evenly.

"He is," she answered immediately, with so much quiet conviction that he was taken aback. "I can't tell you the exact reasons _how_ or _why _I love him, because I'm not even sure myself. Whenever I'm near him, I feel—…It's…It's like finally breaking into a run after walking all my life…" Miaka trailed off, her hand unconsciously fisting around a snowy white table napkin.

"I see." He didn't, actually…but there wasn't much else he could say. It hurt deeply that she had turned down his proposal (again), but subconsciously, he must have known what her answer would be. Miaka was not the kind of girl who would lead a man on, and never once had she given him any indication that she viewed him as anything other than a friend. Andy almost groaned in horror. _Dear Suzaku, what have I done? _

Mortification at the spur-of-the-moment decision he'd made earlier that afternoon, after seeing the engagement ring in the window display of a store, swept through him so violently it would have sent him reeling if he had not been sitting down. He only had himself to blame if Miaka never trusted him again; never wanted to come near him again. How he wished he could turn back time…it didn't matter that he could not have her, but at least he'd had her friendship.

"Hotohori," he was pulled out of his rapidly darkening thoughts by the sound of his seishi name. Only one person still called him that. He blinked and re-focused his attention on his miko, but found her regarding him with a disconcertingly direct stare, as if she was peering right into his soul.

He found himself unable to meet her probing gaze, "I'm sorry…I've…failed you. I hope you will still consider me a friend, but if you never want to see me again…I'll respect that too," he whispered with as much dignity as he could muster, but Andy could hear the tremor in his voice.

"Hotohori, please look at me," she stood up and walked around the table to stand beside him, "You have not failed me! Don't say things like that!" He said nothing, so she began earnestly, "Not long ago, you told me your hopes and dreams, and all the things you wanted to achieve. I don't think any of that has changed. I understand why you feel compelled to ask me to marry you, and I'm grateful that you care enough for me to throw away all that you've worked so hard for. I know you love me, but if you had entered the music industry with the same conviction that you made this…_offer_, you'd still be singing in a karaoke bar somewhere, instead of being the superstar you are now. This proposal, as well intentioned as it is, isn't what you truly want." He felt the touch of her hand on the sleeve of his jacket, "And it wouldn't be fair…to either of us."

It took a stunned moment for her words to sink in, yet another to search his heart and recognize that she was right. He _did _want to live his dreams; to reach the goals he had been working towards over the last few years. In his past life as the ruler of a country, he had inherited the position rather than earned it. By contrast, he had reached where he was today through hard work and determination, and the sense of achievement was far greater than anything he had ever felt as the Emperor of Konan. Getting married at this point in time would be committing career suicide. Andy didn't give a damn about his popularity or the money that came with it, but he loved his job and the rush of adrenaline he experienced every time he performed on stage. He was just reaching his peak, and he was still young…there was still so much he wanted to do before settling down.

"How did you—?" he stopped himself. He should have known that she would see the truth in the deepest recesses of his heart. Andy sighed and got to his feet, wrapping his arms around her small body, "Forget I asked…I just hated seeing you so sad because of that ice-cold jerk. Are we…still friends?"

She hugged him tightly in return. Going on tiptoes, she grazed her lips lightly across his cheek, "You are still on my Christmas mailing list," she assured him with a soft chuckle, "And it is all forgotten, except your good intentions."

Andy swallowed against the tears of relief suddenly clogging his throat. Just like that, he was forgiven. Once again, he marvelled at the wonderful creature in his arms. She was beautiful, both inside and out. He would not apologise for loving her, but it was clear to him now, that only one person had the power to make her truly happy. And that person was not him…_could_ never be him. To be honest, he had known that right from the beginning, when he had first laid eyes on her again in this very same restaurant…the connection between Miaka and the blonde man had been so strong that he'd felt it from clear across the vast room.

His miko petted his shoulder affectionately before pulling away, "I guess you should take your ring back," she nodded at the small box on the table.

He went still for a moment, then let out a heavy breath, "No, Miaka…I want you to have it anyway. I bought it for you and would never think of giving it to anyone else," he said softly, "If things don't work out with him…As long as you keep the ring, I'll have that 0.01 chance with you."

* * *

From a private table one level above the main dining floor of the restaurant, Nicholas stoically watched the former emperor proposing to the Suzaku no Miko. He had sensed her presence even before she'd walked in through the door. Gods, she looked exceptionally pretty tonight, wearing a dress which seemed to gently flutter around her, as if she was being touched by a magical breeze. The innermost layer was a deep rose colour, followed by pale orange and finally overlaid by a translucent layer of creamy ivory. The colours blended and changed as she moved, teasing the eye. Her russet hair had been left to ripple down her back in loose artful curls. And he knew, she would be wearing no make-up except her favourite strawberry lip-gloss. 

She was saying something to Saihitei, but it was hard to make out what from this distance. His hand tightened around the stem of his wine glass, feeling as if someone had reached into his chest and ripped his heart out when she embraced her seishi, kissing the boy on the cheek…to seal their engagement?

His thoughts filled with dark fury and despair. He found himself wanting to kill the Suzaku swordsman all over again…but that would make her sad, wouldn't it? Ruthlessly pushing aside all the dangerously unstable emotions that were coiling inside him, he forced himself remain detached.

_Crack._

"Nick!"

Vaguely surprised, he looked down at the wine and blood dripping over his fingers, staining the pristine white tablecloth. The delicate crystal had shattered in his grip causing some of the needle-fine shards to embed themselves in his palm. Calmly, he wiped his hand with a napkin and stood. He refused to torment himself further by looking at the scene playing out below.

"What the hell is going on? Where are you going?" his dinner guest demanded, half rising out of the chair across from him. "Nick, for heaven's sake, you're bleeding!"

"A minor accident. Finish your dinner," Nicholas said flatly as he turned and walked to the exit. "I will settle the bill on my way out."

* * *

The sheet of paper was in grave danger of becoming crushed beyond recognition in her fist. 

Keisuke, Yui and Tetsuya watched her with avid curiosity and mounting concern as she lifted strangely hollow eyes to look at them.

The Seiryuu no Miko, still holding her own exam results, cautiously walked around to stand at Miaka's elbow so that she could read off the paper held by her best friend. Her jaw dropped in surprise, and she blinked several times as if she could not quite believe what was printed there.

"May I have a look?" Keisuke asked carefully. At Miaka's distracted nod, he slowly reached out to take the letter from her, expecting the worst. Had she failed? _If she did not do well, it's all that blonde jerk's fault! _he thought uncharitably. Nicholas had not been around to visit since that rainy evening…it was as if the blonde man no longer cared about her. It took Keisuke a few seconds for his brain to register what his stunned eyes were seeing. "What the…Holy Sh—" he broke off before the less than appropriate word could leave his mouth.

Peering over the rim of his aviator sunglasses, Tetsuya tapped his foot impatiently, "Well?"

Yui shot a quelling glance at the men and announced brightly, "Tokyo University, here we come! Now let's go celebrate!" Putting her arm through Miaka's, she tried not to be alarmed at the other girl's odd behaviour. Any other person would have been jumping for joy if they had scored the same results…

Because not only had Miaka passed the exams, she'd _aced _them, even achieving high distinctions in Japanese Literature and…_Economics?_

At the contact, Miaka seemed to snap out of her introspection and suddenly, the ever-present optimistic persona was back in full-force, "All thanks to you guys! Yui-chan, I'm so glad that we will be going to the same school! Can we eat now? I'm hungry!" she exclaimed in a her usual genki manner.

Throughout the celebratory lunch bought by Keisuke and Tetsuya, the dragon priestess discreetly observed her phoenix counterpart. Miaka seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be in high spirits and truly ecstatic at her good results and the prospect of going to the prestigious Tokyo U, but Yui noticed that if she looked into the Suzaku no Miko's eyes long enough, she could detect the hint of falseness under the bright smiles. No doubt Nicholas was responsible for Miaka's outstanding score, but there was something else…something which sent an involuntary shiver down Yui's spine when she finally figured out what had been niggling her over the last few weeks. _She's becoming like him! _the fair-haired girl realised uneasily. Like the blonde shogun, Miaka had taken to suppressing her true emotions and wore a mask showing what the world expected to see. Only, instead of bland indifference, her best friend had chosen ditzy cheerfulness so as not to arouse suspicion. Yui doubted anyone else aside from herself, Keisuke and Tetsuya had noticed anything amiss. But then, like Economics, Miaka had learned the art of deception from the very best.

It had to stop. It wasn't healthy. Unfortunately, smart as she was, Yui could think of no way to help her best friend.

Apparently, Keisuke must have been thinking along the same lines, because when Miaka excused herself to use the rest-room, her brother leaned over and hissed across the table, "Do something! Miaka's acting like everything is all perfect when we all know that smile of hers is more fake than Pamela Anderson's boo—…er…chest!" He rushed ahead before the miko could kick him under the table and said, "Look, I think you should just tell her the truth…that she and Blondie were in love with each other before the kidnapping! I don't care what we promised Nicholas, but she needs to know!"

The remark garnered a stifled snort from Tetsuya. Yui glared at both of them, "Why me?" She was aware of what had happened the night she'd loaned out her favourite dress, but only because Miaka had seemed to need to talk to someone about it. Luckily for all concerned, the girl had turned down Andy's marriage proposal although they were apparently still friends. Yui strongly suspected the reason for Miaka's decision, but was reluctant to press for an answer. _Now, if only Nicholas would quit being so stubborn! I'm quite sure that she's fallen in love with him again, but is afraid to show it because she believes that it's hopeless. What is it with the two of them? Someone should lock them in a very small dark igloo, naked, with only one blanket…Ugh! Bad Yui…shouldn't be thinking of hentai things like that! _

Unaware of her rambling thoughts, the two men fidgeted uncomfortably for a while until Keisuke volunteered, "Uhm…because it's a girl thing?"

He was saved from having to say anything more at the timely return of his sister. Skewering them with a frosty look that promised many unpleasant consequences in the near future, the Seiryuu no Miko stabbed her fork violently into a plump sausage. Both males gulped nervously, fearing for the continued well-being of their appendages. If things went pear-shaped, the powers of all the four gods combined would not be sufficient to protect them from Yui's wrath.

Miaka eyed the others warily. _What did I miss? _she wondered. Her best friend seemed to be taking a lot of grim pleasure puncturing the remaining sausages on her plate, while Keisuke and Tetsuya visibly winced at the sight. _On second thought, I don't think I want to know…_As it was, it was hard enough to keep up the façade of the happy-go-lucky schoolgirl without getting involved in whatever little argument that had occurred while she had been away. She acknowledged that her exam results were better than expected and that she _should _be pleased for doing so well…well enough to make her family proud and qualify for a good university.

_But…_

The high marks meant little to her because _he_ wasn't here to share her joy.

* * *

There was someone waiting for them in front of the door when they got home. The man was wearing an impeccable suit and carried an expensive-looking leather briefcase. Miaka immediately felt a sense of foreboding as the man came forward, his hand extended in greeting. 

"Miss Yuuki? My name is Yoshimura Shinji. I am a lawyer and here on behalf of my client. I believe you know Nicholas Raine?"

She stared numbly at the man, worst-case scenarios running rampant through her mind, "Has something happened? What…?"

Keisuke cleared his throat, interrupting, and held the front door open, "Maybe we should go inside to discuss this?" While he doubted that Nicholas had somehow managed to get himself killed in something as mundane as a car accident, he knew that Miaka would never recover from it if he had. _And hell, I'd miss the Walking Icicle too, _he admitted, feeling a sick sense of dread creeping over him.

When they were all comfortably seated in the living room, the lawyer placed a thick set of legal documents in front of Miaka. "Don't worry, Miss Yuuki, nothing has happened to Mr Raine. He said he merely wished to show his appreciation to you and your brother." With a nod at Keisuke, he began, "My client has had these papers drawn up with respect to Miss Yuuki Miaka. As is stipulated in these documents, Nicholas Alexander Raine is transferring sole ownership of his penthouse apartment to you, effective as of tomorrow." Flipping several pages, the man continued, "Likewise, ownership of a vehicle, one Porsche Carrera GT, is to be transferred to Yuuki Keisuke."

"What?! What does he think he's playing at? He's crazy! And this…This isn't funny!" Keisuke had shot to his feet and reached across to snatch the papers off the table. Frowning in disbelief, he read what was printed in the document and managed to decipher enough of the legalese to ascertain that the other man had not been lying.

"I can assure you that my client was of extremely sound mind when he made this arrangement," the lawyer said dryly. _Odd, _Shinji mused as he observed the two people at the table, _I've never seen anyone less happy at the prospect of being the new owners of an apartment and a car worth millions of dollars. _Still, it was not his place to question why they were acting so strangely. Reaching into his briefcase, he withdrew a small black velvet pouch and set it down in front of the young woman who had not uttered a sound ever since they had sat down. "Mr Raine instructed me to give you this."

Her hand slowly reached out to touch the pouch, trembling as she turned it upside down. A single earring fell to onto the tabletop with a small clutter. Shinji was taken aback when she finally looked up. There was an aching vulnerability in her large hazel eyes. Uncomfortable with the situation that he had suddenly found himself in, he shuffled some papers and stood up, bowing respectfully to her, "Please look through the documents and contact me if you have any questions."

The brown-haired man, whom he assumed was Yuuki Keisuke, walked him to the door. Turning to shake hands, he glanced back at the pretty girl who sat as unmoving as a marble statue. Abruptly, he felt sorry for her. There was definitely something going on between her and his client, but it wasn't his place to offer advice on matters of the heart. His professional stance softened slightly, "Nicholas wishes you both happiness," he said quietly.

Miaka's brother snorted, "Does he really?" he shot back derisively and studied Shinji shrewdly for a moment, "He's your friend, isn't he?"

"We've crossed paths a number of times," the lawyer replied sardonically, neatly side-stepping the question.

The elder Yuuki sibling accepted his answer without comment, mouth quirking humourlessly as he opened the door, "Thank you for coming by, Yoshimura-san."

Some imp of perversity caused Shinji to pause on the threshold, "My client mentioned that he was catching a flight to the States tomorrow morning," he chose his words carefully, "But he remains contactable at the address listed in the title deeds should any last minute legalities arise." Technically, he was not divulging anything that jeopardised client confidentiality…he was merely stating facts.

Yuuki Keisuke nodded sombrely and bowed formally, "I understand…Arigatou."

The lawyer inclined his head briefly in acknowledgement and departed, leaving only silence in his wake. Closing the door, Keisuke scrubbed a hand tiredly over his face, feeling about a hundred years old. _How can that blonde jerk leave her like this? Has he given up on her? I could have sworn that he loved her…No! _he gritted his teeth, _It's not supposed to end this way! Someone's got to knock some sense into Nicholas! I swear I'm going down to his swanky apartment and tie him to one of his designer chairs if I have to! _

A low cry from the living room caused him to spin around, just in time to see Miaka slump over the table.

* * *

The blue stone glimmered in the light, as she stared at the single piece of jewellery. The one Yui had given her that Christmas so long ago, after the incident with Tenkou. She had been missing the blonde Seiryuu seishi badly and it had brought her a small measure of comfort to hold something which had belonged to him. 

Her hand closed around the earring, gripping it tightly. _I miss him so much…if only I could just hear his voice, one more time…Nakago, aishiteru! AISHITERU! I wish I'd had the courage to tell you that, the morning you brought me rosemary tea…_The drumbeat of her heart grew louder and louder, until she could hear nothing else.

Like a dam bursting, the roar in her ears suddenly became a deafening cacophony of sounds and voices. Images whirled before her eyes, bright lights and colours whizzed past her at dizzying speed…and then amidst it all, the truth slammed into her with uncompromising force. She wanted it to stop, but the memories wouldn't be held back any longer.

_In the palace, visiting Empress Houki…_

_That fateful afternoon by the river, with the bandits spying on them…_

_The night at the inn, when a drunk Tasuki had attacked her…_

_Standing under the flowering tree in the middle of the Kutou palace garden at sunset, waiting…_

There were so many of them, so many different emotions, and yet every single one had a common thread weaving through them. "Nakago!" she rasped in a choking sob, caught in the grip of a memory so powerful that it felt like it was happening all over again. The remembered pain of the dagger ripping through flesh…She doubled over, clutching her abdomen.

_"I'm so glad…you're okay again. I could not bear it…if we…if we went back to…being enemies…"_

_… the look on Nakago's face as he used the very same dagger to slit his own wrist…_

**_He had loved her then…_**

Miaka tried to stand up, but her knees buckled. She heard Keisuke shouting her name in alarm, as if from a great distance away, and then mercifully, everything went black.

* * *

She was back in Ueno Park, but this time, she wasn't alone. They walked hand in hand down a quiet tree-lined path until they came to a small clearing. Wind whistled through the trees and sakura blossoms swirled all around them. She looked up into his handsome face, and saw all the emotions he allowed no one else to see. He traced the curve of her cheek gently, and drew her against his body. Her eyes fluttered closed as he lowered his lips to hers… 

The feel of his mouth against her own was heaven as he kissed her slowly with so much tenderness that she could feel the moisture already welling up in her eyes.

"Tears have no place on this day," he murmured, using a fingertip to catch a teardrop which trembled on the tips of her lashes. Vaguely she heard clapping, wolf-whistles and hoots of encouragement. The buzz of voices in the background…

Her eyes flew open.

She found herself standing on a beautiful black sand beach under a small white gazebo. White and gold satin ribbons and flowers streamed from poles driven into the sand. All around her, friends and family stood smiling. Not far away, the sea lapped at the shore, the waves turned liquid gold by the setting sun. The breeze tugged playfully at the gossamer-fine veil in her hair and the white silk and organza of her full white skirt.

Miaka stared up into the cerulean blue eyes of the man who was now her husband, seeing the love that mirrored her own…

…and felt something cold on her forehead.

She bolted upright, dislodging the wet cloth and causing it to fall into her lap. She was in her room, in her own bed. _A dream…Just a dream…_

"You're awake!" Keisuke stood at her bedside, a worried frown marring his features. "You scared the holy hell out of me when you fainted! What happened?" He sat on the edge of the mattress, retrieving the cloth from her lap and tossing it into the basin on her nightstand.

Delicate hands fisted in the bedclothes, as she recalled the last few moments before she had blacked out. She took a deep, shaky breath, and turned to face her brother. "I…remember…" she said baldly. There was no need to explain. She could see that her brother understood her perfectly.

"How much…?" he asked, the urgency in his voice unmistakeable.

"Everything. I remember it all! Nakago…he loved me…" she whispered, her voice trembled with emotion.

"He_ still_ loves you!" Keisuke declared fiercely, "He made us promise not to tell you about the two of you being in love with each other. Tetsuya thinks that it has something to do with a very twisted sense of honour."

Miaka barely heard him, as the last pieces of the huge jigsaw puzzle in her mind fell into place. She understood now, that every one of his actions was due to the fact that he had genuinely cared about her. He'd wanted her to see…wanted her to choose to be with him on her own free will, and not because someone had told her that she should love him. She winced inwardly at how blind she'd been. Taiitsukun had been right, she had been blinded by her own prejudices, unable to see what was right under her nose. _It must have hurt him terribly to know that I didn't remember our love and all that we've been through together. _Searching her heart, she realised that there was no difference in the way she felt now, compared to before Ashitare had kidnapped her. It was as if a part of her had never forgotten. Not that it had mattered in the long-run…the kind of man that he was had been enough to make her fall in love with him all over again, even without her memories.

She shoved to her feet, a wave of panic suddenly threatening to choke her. The sky outside her bedroom window was dark and it looked like rain was on the way. She grabbed Keisuke's arms, "How long have I been out?" she questioned wildly as the horrible reality of the situation made itself known. Nakago was leaving and she knew that he would never return if she let him go. She had to stop him! Or had she already missed her last chance?

"A few hours," Keisuke told her grimly. He looked down at her for a moment, his gaze very serious. "Get changed. I'll call a cab. You can still make it down there in time." He turned and strode purposefully out, only pausing briefly at the doorway to say with stiff dignity, "And when you see him…please tell him that I don't want his damned car if he's not around to watch me dent it."

* * *

Literally shaking with nerves, Miaka stood outside the door of his expensive penthouse apartment. The apartment that would soon become hers for reasons known only to the man on the other side of the door. _No need to be nervous, Yuuki! He's not going to bite! Just go in there and tell him that you remember and that you love him! And then everything will be all right…_She gulped in several breaths and tried to calm the rapidly pounding organ in her chest, which felt as if it was about to burst out of her ribcage and make a bid for freedom down the plushly carpeted hallway. 

She gritted her teeth, and pressed the doorbell before she lost her courage.

Silence.

Just as she was about to press the bell again, she heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back and the click of the lock turning. Miaka opened her mouth to greet him and launch into the speech she had practised a thousand times on the way over, but the words froze in her throat.

A tall, incredibly beautiful pale blonde woman clad in a skimpy red spaghetti-strapped camisole and a pair of tight, low-slung jeans stood in the open doorway.

"Can I help you?" the platinum-haired goddess asked politely, her pretty mist grey eyes alight with curiosity.

In that moment, Miaka felt her hope shatter into a million pieces…much like her heart.

* * *

Notes: 

1) Sorry once again for the long absence of updates! Hope this chapter was worth the wait. This instalment is a whopping 14 pages long in Arial font size 10, and is the longest chapter in any of the three stories in this trilogy. Statistics aside, I know this chapter may look like a collection of various POVs strung together, and shifts around quite a lot, but I wanted it this way to reflect not only Miaka's somewhat fragmented state of mind and her indecision concerning Nakago/Nicholas, but also give readers a sort of 360 degree view from the perspectives of the other characters. There are elements in every character's POV that will tie in with things in later chapters. However, I'm not telling just yet…

2) Miaka has actually come to terms with the fact that she has fallen in love with her former enemy, as seen by her confession to Andy, but cannot seem to find the courage (and opportunity) to confront Nakago directly. She has her pride as well, and believes that her love is doomed to be unrequited, hence the reason she does not seek him out.

3) The speech Miaka gives to Andy about the 25 million year cycle is by no means original. I was inspired by the Korean(!) drama "Goong" (also known by the title "Princess Hours" in English) and adapted it to fit in here.

4) Who is the woman who answers the door and what is she doing in Nakago's apartment…? Stay tuned to find out…


	13. The Beginning

**Chapter 13: The Beginning**

Nicholas closed his eyes as he stood beneath the shower set on maximum, allowing the stinging spray to lash at his body. Steam billowed thickly inside the bathroom, completely fogging the glass walls of the enclosure. He'd turned up temperature of the water, but despite the heat, he felt nothing but cold emptiness inside.

He was not especially sad or distressed, just…numb, as his emotions shut down. Perversely, he was thankful for it, since it enabled him to function almost normally. Only once, in the three days since he had seen _them_ together, had he lost control. It had been immediately after he had exited the restaurant without a backward glance, knowing that he would never set foot in it again. Mechanically, he had started his car and taken the highway leading out of the city. The traffic had thinned out considerably by the time he reached the outskirts.

Perhaps it had been a blessing that he had shattered his wineglass before he'd had a chance to take more than a sip that night. The fact that he had been sober and the excellent handling of his car was probably why he was currently still breathing and not lying in a morgue somewhere. His mouth curved mirthlessly…he did not doubt that his death would have swiftly been classified by the authorities as a case of reckless drunk-driving. Unfortunate, but hardly out of the ordinary.

Taking hairpin bends on a poorly-lit winding coastal road was probably not the most sane thing he had ever done. He remembered negotiating turn after turn, not caring that the digital reading on the dashboard showed a speed several times above the legal limit. And then, it had happened. There had been numerous warning signs by the roadside, but he'd gunned past them, deliberately flooring the accelerator. A low safety barrier loomed ahead where the road abruptly ended and beyond that, a sheer drop off the cliff into the sea. Even on hindsight, Nicholas did not know whether he had actually entertained a death wish that night…however, as it turned out; his will to live was stronger than he had anticipated as he slammed on the brakes at the last minute. The car had skidded sideways; there had been no time for fear, only pure instinct and swift reflexes as he spun the wheel, attempting to control the trajectory of the vehicle. It was then that he wondered with clinical detachment if she would shed any tears for him if he died. He did not fear death, he never had. Not now, and certainly not in his lifetime as Nakago.

The Porsche came to a gravel-spraying halt a mere foot away from the barrier. Slowly unfastening his seatbelt, Nicholas noticed with distant interest that his hands were not even shaking. Opening the door, he swung his legs out and stared up at the stars, listening to the waves crashing against the cliff face a hundred feet below.

Antares had shone unusually brightly, along with the two companion stars which made up the scorpion's tail that was Seiryuu no Shichi Seishi Nakago's constellation.

He had remained like that until the sky had begun turning pink over the horizon.

Then he had driven back to his apartment, ignored the irate woman who had screeched at him like a banshee the minute he'd set foot inside the house, and placed a call through to an old friend…

Shinji was a good friend and a damned good lawyer. The man was discreet, utterly professional and did not ask questions which Nicholas had no intention of answering.

The tingling sensation which felt like countless needles piercing his shoulders, chest, arms and abdomen brought him abruptly back to the present. Nicholas opened his eyes and looked down to find that his skin had turned an angry red from the scalding hot water. Raking an impatient hand through his wet hair, he turned off the shower before he did himself permanent damage.

Was this what Tamahome had gone through when Miaka had chosen to love someone else? Loathe as he was to admit it, it looked like he and the Suzaku boy were now in the same boat. The Suzaku no Miko was a menace, and should never be let out without a health advisory warning tattooed across her forehead. The power that she wove over unsuspecting people was far more insidious than his own or that of her seishi…She made the most reluctant of souls fall in love with her. Worse still, she had no idea that she was doing it!

Not that it mattered anymore…This ignominious chapter of his life would be over by morning. In a few hours, he would get on a plane headed to the United States and never look back. Home, to take the position his family had always expected him to fill. _So the prodigal son returns, _he thought grimly. While there was no way he could forget her, he would pack all that he felt for her into a box and bury it somewhere deep inside himself, in a place where it would cease to hurt. He would get on with his life without her...and make sure that he had a hell lot of fun while he was at it.

Someday, if they ever met again, he would be able to wish her well without the slightest trace of bitterness; flash an arrogant smirk at her, secure in the knowledge that she was firmly in his past, and that nothing that she did or said would have any power over him.

Resolutely pulling his towel off the rail, he methodically dried himself off and wrapped it around his waist before striding across the bedroom to dress. Normally, he would not have bothered with such modesty, but since he wasn't alone in his apartment at the moment…

* * *

Miaka stared at the lovely vision standing before her, stricken into silence. Her tongue seemed to have turned to wood in her mouth, and she could feel icy cold tendrils of pain claw at her insides, making it hard to breathe.

So he had replaced her already. She couldn't even blame him…had she really expected him to wait forever for her? It did not escape her notice that he had chosen someone who was everything she was not…tall, stunningly beautiful, and undeniably sexy. With Miaka's luck, the woman was probably kind to animals and would feel sorry for her. It would only add insult to injury, and the last thing Miaka wanted was someone pitying her.

Her nails inscribed deep half-moon crescents into her palms, drawing blood, as she lowered her head, not wanting Nakago's girlfriend to see her cry.

"Excuse me, are you okay?" A melodic voice asked in English with genuine concern.

Miaka could feel grey eyes taking in her dishevelled appearance, from her tangled hair to the odd creases on her skirt…the result of her hands nervously clutching and twisting at the material in the cab throughout the journey over here. In the presence of such flawless beauty, she felt like something which had just crawled out from under a rock in a swamp.

"I…" She squeezed her eyes tightly shut just once, forcing back tears and looked up, hoping that the other woman would not notice. "I think I must have the wrong address," she managed, but she heard the strangled, high-pitched tremor in her words.

Just as she was about to take a step back and make a run for it, the deep voice that haunted both her dreams and nightmares froze her on her tracks.

"Who is it, Steph?"

To her horror, Nakago materialised from the direction of the bedroom wearing a loose pair of black sweatpants low on his hips and a thin white tank top. She forgot to breathe.

He looked magnificent.

The former Seiryuu seishi's normally pale skin was flushed and his hair in damp disarray. His clothing looked as if it had been quickly and carelessly pulled on, but draped over him well enough to show off the lean, muscular lines of his body. It came as something of a shock, since she had never seen him with even a strand of hair out of place unless he was injured and covered in blood. Miaka's imagination immediately supplied a reason for his appearance, which seemed to make perfect sense to her already overloaded mind.

Nakago halted when he caught sight of her, and she was sure she saw some unidentifiable emotion pass over his handsome face before his expression blanked out into hard impassivity. Eyes that were relentlessly cold regarded her without so much as a sign of welcome. It was obvious that he was not happy to see her. _No kidding, Einstein_, the sarcastic comment echoed in her mind. It could have been worse, Miaka thought with mounting hysteria. Nakago could have been the one to open the door while his companion sashayed out of the bedroom with nothing on but a bathrobe. Or sexy lingerie…Then again, even _that_ was not _half _as bad as if she had caught them _in flagrante delicto…_

She found herself unable to look at either of them and focused her eyes on the far wall. "I'm…s-sorry," she whispered, "I…I apologise if I was interrupting anything."

Her erstwhile enemy did not move, "Why are you here, Suzaku no Miko?"

The unforgiving tone of the words caused her to flinch, but as she searched for an answer, she realised something important. She loved him, and wanted him to be happy above all else. Even if it wasn't with her. She did not want to ruin his relationship with the beautiful blonde woman who seemed a perfect match for him in every way. They made a strikingly attractive couple.

_Be strong and hold it together, Yuuki! Behave like the priestess you're supposed to be! _Miaka knew that she had to say her piece and get away as quickly as possible before her fragile control crumbled. "I wanted to tell you…" she lifted her chin, praying to the phoenix god for the strength to see this through to the end, "I got a distinction for Economics. Looks like I'll be going to Tokyo University with Yui-chan after all." It hurt to stretch her facial muscles into a smile, but she tried valiantly. "I came…to t-thank you…for…for all that you've d-done for me and wish you…all the best…"

Her tenuous grip on her emotions finally slipped and she twisted around to flee, her vision blurring as the tears she had been holding back welled up uncontrollably.

Miaka's dramatic getaway would most likely have succeeded, had it not been for the blonde goddess grabbing her arm, yanking her backwards into the apartment and swinging the door shut with a very decisive slam.

* * *

"I sense a huge misunderstanding about to happen and I refuse to be the cause of it," Stephanie drawled and leaned back against the door, cutting off the only route of escape.

She eyed the strange young woman she'd more or less abducted. The poor girl was shaking like a leaf in a storm! Her face was downturned, hidden by long wavy russet hair, but Stephanie recalled the huge, luminous hazel eyes which seemed to dominate a heart-shaped face with delicate elfin features. Pretty, she decided, in a very fresh, innocent way.

The question was, what was going on between this 'Suzaku no Miko'—surely that wasn't her real name, was it?—and dear Nicholas?

_Speaking of which…_Steph flicked an interested glance to the man who was standing disturbingly still, staring at their visitor with an intensity that was seriously starting to give her goose bumps. His expression remained carefully blank, but she could tell it was taking him superhuman effort to keep the damned mask in place. She noticed that his usually ice-blue eyes had darkened considerably, a sure-fire sign that he was suppressing some very strong emotions. However, most telling was the way his hands twitched and clenched into fists at his side, as if he wanted to reach out for the little waif, but had stopped himself from doing so.

Suddenly, one fact became very clear. _Well I'll be damned…_She was willing to lay odds that Nicholas (or Nick, as she always called him) was in love—or as close to it as he was ever going to get—with this young woman, although he seemed determined to fight it. _So that's why he's been more cranky than usual, _she mused. She'd witnessed his transformation into a veritable block of ice when Adrienne had died years ago, but Steph had never seen him behave like this in all the time she had known him.

And she had known him all her life.

_What happened the other night in the restaurant had something to do with her...come to think of it, he seemed to be distracted by something or someone on the main floor below us. Could she have been there as well? _She'd been stunned when his glass had literally exploded in his hand, then worried when he had simply left after doing his iceberg impersonation.

A quiet sob from the girl had her pushing herself upright and moving to face the poor thing. Stephanie shot a sharp glare at Nicholas. What kind of person was he, to just stand there and let the one he loved cry? Not much of a gentleman, apparently. And his initial greeting had bordered on rude. Gently placing a hand on a slim shoulder, she felt the thin, already tense body wind even tighter, like a deer getting ready to bolt. She slowly reached to brush aside a lock of silky russet hair, and was taken aback by the sight of tears streaming unchecked over white cheeks.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but looks like it's something that you need to work out. Whatever it is, I apologise on behalf of my idiot brother for being an uncommunicative jerk."

Expressive hazel eyes bright with tears widened in disbelief, "Bro-brother?" the girl echoed hoarsely.

_A-ha! No wonder she looked like a kicked puppy when I opened the door! She thought that Nick and I…? Ugh…_the blonde woman fought down a shudder. _Now that's just…yuck! _She wouldn't date _him_ even if he wasn't her brother. Definitely not her type…Too brooding and far too cold for her liking. Obviously, she was the only one in this room who felt that way. Her emotionally-challenged older sibling had somehow managed to convince this sweet innocent to love him. _Really, really_ love him, she realised in amazement. It wasn't merely superficial love or childish infatuation. She could almost _feel_ the depth of emotion coming from this tiny female. _Oh well, there's no accounting for taste…_

"Yep," she nodded, "I'm Stephanie Raine, by the way. Steph for short. What's your name?"

"Yu…Yuuki Miaka…" the girl supplied falteringly, her eyes darting nervously past Stephanie to the silent, unapproachable presence standing in the middle of the living room.

Steph stuck out her hand, pointedly ignoring the frosty stare burning into the back of her skull. It was a good sign; she had not seen her brother display this much raw emotion for a very long time. "Well, nice to meet you, Yuuki Miaka." Smiling encouragingly, she patiently waited as a small palm tentatively reached out to briefly rest in hers.

The lovebirds needed some privacy to sort out their problems, and it was time Stephanie made herself scarce or risk becoming a voyeur. Clearing her throat, "As much as I would love to stay and chat, I've got places to be and people to see, so have fun you two!" she announced brightly, skirting around Nicholas to grab her handbag. With a mischievous smirk, she scooped up the leather wallet lying beside it on the glass table. Her brother did not seem to have noticed her actions, since he had not taken his eyes off Miaka.

With an airy wave, she strolled past both of them, winking at the girl on her way out, "Oh, and don't wait up for me, I'll probably be out all night!" she called good-naturedly over her shoulder with a parting grin of Cheshire cat proportions.

Minutes later, Stephanie leaned back against the leather seat of a cab after giving her instructions to the driver. She thought about this Yuuki Miaka, intrigued by the situation. To be able to look at a man with that much love in her eyes, stand her ground and tell him that she wished for his happiness when her heart was visibly breaking…now that took real courage. _Hmmm, not Nick's usual tall, leggy supermodel or high-powered corporate type either. _There had been quite a few of those over the years, but she knew they had not meant anything to him. He'd never allowed any of those women close enough to affect him emotionally, the sole exception being that girlfriend of his from university. Stephanie had liked the outspoken raven-haired welsh girl, and had looked forward to having her as a sister-in-law. Adrienne's passing had saddened her, but those feelings had gradually turned into a faint resentment when it became clear that Adrienne had taken Nicholas' ability to love along with her to the grave.

However, things seemed to have changed in the year since Nicholas had come over to Tokyo. This one had somehow slipped past his formidable defences and under his skin…with fascinating results. _Whew, there must have been enough tension in there to set the house on fire! _Deep down, she sensed that this petite Japanese girl was different from the others. _Those gold-digging socialites back in New York would be terribly disappointed…_There was no chance for them now; her elusive brother was well and truly taken. _You definitely owe me one this time, Nick…_ she decided, flipping open her mobile phone and cheerfully cancelling their flight in the morning.

It had turned out to be an interesting evening. She had done a kind deed…

She was headed towards downtown Tokyo, with great shopping opportunities, not to mention some fantastic five-star hotels…

_And _she had her brother's credit card…

Lips twitching with amusement, she absently watched the scenery flying by through the window even as the first raindrops streaked across the glass.

Life was good.

* * *

_Hey, time won't wait,  
Life goes by;  
Every day's a brand new sky,  
Every tear  
Comes to dry  
All that really matters in this crazy world,  
Is you and I together, baby.  
Just remember…_

They stared at each other for a long time after Stephanie's departure, until Nicholas turned away from her and walked to the plate glass window overlooking the city. It hurt to see her again, knowing that she belonged to someone else. He gritted his teeth, disgusted with himself, for being vulnerable enough to be affected by her, and furious at her, for having the nerve to come over here in the first place, after accepting that pretty-boy pop star's proposal…did she intend to wave the fact in his face?

He clamped down on the thought, ruthlessly shoving aside the anger and jealousy which threatened to cloud his mind. "Why are you here, Suzaku no Miko?" he flatly repeated his earlier question.

Miaka watched him put distance between them, as if he could not tolerate her presence. Her heart was hammering. She had almost fainted with relief to find out that the beautiful blonde woman was his sister. Now that she thought about it, there was more than a passing family resemblance in their facial features. Stephanie's hair was a few shades lighter than his, but his sister's eyes were the same moonlit silver-grey that his became sometimes when his mood shifted. Biting her lip, she wondered how to answer him. Why was he so angry with her? And why was he leaving and giving her his apartment?

She took a step forward, closer to him. "Please don't leave," she implored, noticing how the line of his back and shoulders were ramrod straight. His hostility tore into her like icy claws, yet she knew that she had no right to ask anything from him, no right to demand his love. That he continued looking through the glass, reluctant to even acknowledge her presence…that hurt the worst of all.

"I have no reason to stay," the former shogun said calmly, in that cold distant tone.

She drew in a deep breath, stung by the callousness of his response. "Why are you giving me your apartment?" Reaching inside her bag, she pulled out the legal documents the lawyer had presented her with.

The dark glass reflected his image, and she could see that his eyes were as silver as the lightning flashing across the overcast sky outside. "Consider it a wedding gift," Nakago told her, both face and voice expressionless. A sardonic tilt of his head, "And congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."

Shock held her immobile. "_WHAT_?" Her exclamation sounded loud in the room. "I'm not getting married! Why would you—" Miaka broke off suddenly, as the niggling suspicion unfolded in her mind, "That night…You were there at the restaurant! You saw Hotohori propose, didn't you?"

He did not deny it, so she took it as affirmative. Instinctively, she knew that the next few moments would be the most important in her life. Her future, her happiness lay with this man. She would not let him leave her! _I will not lose!_ No more games, it was time for the truth.

"He did propose to me, Nakago," she confirmed shakily, "But I told him that I couldn't marry him, because I was in love with someone else…You." Impulsively, she flung herself at him, locking her arms around his waist and hugging him from behind. The papers that had been in her hand fluttered to the floor in disarray. "After what we shared in the Book, fighting against Tenkou and the second time, when you exchanged yourself for Keisuke and Tamahome...it has always been you."

Every muscle and nerve in his body tensed as he felt her resting her cheek against his back. "So you remember." It was not a question.

"I remember how much I loved you before," her grip tightened, her tears soaking through the thin fabric of his shirt, "It's no different from how I feel now. In the end, it didn't matter that those memories were missing, because…because you made me fall in love with you all over again. When you helped me after I was stung by the jellyfish, and the following morning, I…" Faltering slightly, Miaka made herself continue out of sheer willpower. _No more secrets. _"I wanted to tell you then, but I believed that you would never see me as anything but a thorn in your side. I wanted you to want me…" she finished in a small voice.

Nakago did not respond and she wondered with a sinking heart, whether her mistrust and cowardice had killed whatever he'd felt for her. Then, Miaka felt him exhale slowly; felt his hands move to loosen her hold on him.

He turned to face her, looking down at her wordlessly for an endless soul-wrenching moment, before abruptly dropping her wrists as though he could not bear the thought of her touching him.

His actions hurt her like nothing else could…as if someone had shoved a skewer through her heart. She caught sight of the paper scattered at their feet, "Will you still leave?" she asked painfully.

"It depends."

Miaka tilted her head up, searching his face for a clue as to what he was thinking. He merely stared back at her, his expression unreadable, testing her. Somehow, she had a feeling that she'd failed. Bitter disappointment snaked through her, gnawing away whatever was left of her composure.

Rather than give in to the urge to crumple to the floor and cry like a baby, she bent and focused on picking up the legal documents. She supposed she should just cut her losses and leave now, but the part of her which was the Suzaku no Miko refused to let him take her dignity, not when he had already taken almost everything else from her…

Or maybe she was just a glutton for punishment.

"I don't want your apartment …I'm not marrying Hotohori, so you can't tell me to '_consider it a wedding gift'_! And don't you dare tell me that it's a going-away present! You can give it to charity for all I care!" she ground out fiercely with a hauteur that would have made Nuriko proud. In the Shijintenchisho, she'd always had to be strong for the sake of other people. _Tonight, I will be strong for __**me, **_she vowed, her jaw tightening with steely determination. With a jerky motion, she got to her feet. There didn't seem to be any more words left to say. Forcing her legs to work, Miaka walked over to the glass-topped table and began sorting the paper into its proper order, trying to give herself time to re-group and hide the tears which were threatening to overflow once more. "It's not as if I'm your mistress or anything, so I don't know why you are trying to give it to me," she laughed hollowly, the sound hung heavily between them, along with the broken pieces of her heart.

Then, something caused her hands to still in their task; and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. He had made no sound, but she knew that he was standing directly behind her. "Because life is unpredictable," his deep voice brushed across her senses like a pelt of the softest sable, "And I have considered you my fiancée since the night you were first hospitalised."

And time stood still.

For her.

For him.

She gripped the edge of the table, her nails showing white. "Don't…" A tear splashed on the glass, "Don't say things that you don't mean," she choked out.

Strong hands pulled her backwards against a hard body, supporting her just as her knees buckled. "I never say anything I do not mean," he said quietly. "You know that, Miaka."

She twisted like an eel and tried to kick him, pounding her small fists against his chest hard enough to leave bruises. "Nakago no Baka…baka…" He let her hit him; let her vent her pent up emotions on him until she finally went limp, her breath coming in great shudders as she cried. Gradually, her sobs slowed and stopped, leaving only silence in the room, and the patter of the rain drumming against the plate glass window.

She felt the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers, and the next moment, she was drowning in the dark magic of his kiss. Miaka let out a sigh and closed her eyes, clinging to him, afraid that he would leave her if she let go.

He gave in to the temptation he had been fighting ever since she had told him that she was not marrying Saihitei and allowed himself to savour her unique scent of freshly picked strawberries…how he had missed being able to hold her like this. When the kiss ended, he carefully pressed his lips against each of her closed eyelids, tasting the salt left from her tears. The feelings which he'd believed to be locked away forever flooded back in an instant. It had been foolish of him to think he could simply stop loving her…

Useless of him to try…

The realisation of how close he had come to losing the one person who meant everything to him left him shaken in a way that even almost driving off a cliff had failed to do. A sense of silent urgency and desperation swept through him, obliterating the last vestiges of his control. He needed her tonight, as much as she needed him…to assure each other that this was real.

His thumb stroked over her delicate cheekbone.

"Let me make love to you."

Her eyes fluttered open, huge and dark with the same desire he knew was reflected in his own…

"Hai…"

_The first leaves off the tree,  
The way you look at me;  
A thousand chiming church bells ring,  
The simple things are free.  
The sun, the moon, the stars,  
The beating of two hearts…  
How I love the simple things;  
The simple things just are. _

He carried her into the bedroom, lowering her onto her feet beside the bed. She was trembling as he lifted her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles, then turning it over to do the same to the centre of her palm.

Nicholas heard her quick intake of breath. Swiftly leaning forward, he captured her lips once more, stealing the air from her lungs. Sliding a hand down her back, he let it drift lower until it came to rest at the base of her spine. The bottom edge of her blouse proved little deterrent to his fingertips seeking the warmth underneath. Leisurely, he began undoing the buttons which hid her body from his eyes and touch, bestowing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he uncovered.

He could feel her heart pounding as he lingered over the swell of her breasts…felt his own heart racing to meet hers.

The blouse fluttered to the floor at their feet, only to be quickly followed by her skirt, until she stood before him clad only in a few wisps of delicate lace and silk. However beautiful Miaka had looked there in the restaurant with Saihitei, she was even more lovely to him now.

He pulled her flush against his body, and her sweet gasp of surprise at the hard evidence pressing into her belly caused the fire raging within him to burn even hotter. What was worse was that despite her inexperience, her hands began roaming restlessly over his back, tugging at his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers.

"Greedy little miko…" he murmured, scooping her up and laying her carefully on the bed. She stared up at him, pink lips swollen from his kiss and hazel eyes golden with passion.

Every second he stood looking down at her proved an exercise in restraint. In a few impatient movements, he freed himself of the rest of his clothing, scarcely managing to bite back a harsh oath as the soft cotton of his briefs rasped over the sensitive, painfully aroused part of him.

He came down over her, caging her with his body. More than ever, he was conscious of how tiny she was compared to him. Nuzzling at her throat, he nipped gently at her pulse before soothing the small bite with his tongue. The little sounds she made only served to fuel his hunger for her. Nicholas wanted her the way he had never wanted another person; wanted to claim her and share himself in return.

Reaching under her, he unfastened her bra and drew the fragile fabric aside, gently baring her breasts to his gaze. Even as he watched, the lush shell-pink tips tightened in response.

"Na-ka-go…onegai…" her whimpers turned into a long moan as he brought his mouth down on her, teasing lightly, then latching on fully to one taut peak and suckling. The miko keened, a high, needy sound and squirmed under him. Holding her still, he turned his head to lave attention on the neglected twin.

For the first time in his life, he felt as if he were standing on the precipice of a bottomless chasm. If they did this, there would be no going back. He had to be absolutely sure that this was what she truly wanted…while he still had enough willpower to stop.

As if sensing his hesitation, she lifted heavy lashes to look up at him, the answer to his unvoiced question glowing in her eyes…_She would __**kill**__ him if he stopped. _Despite her silent threat, he could feel her nervousness even though she refused to show it. His brave little warrior miko would leave this bed in the morning forever changed. She reminded him of the Valkyries of legend; beautiful, fearless in battle, and beloved of the gods. It took every ounce of self-control he had left not to rip away that last flimsy barrier and drive into her. _Premature ejaculation might become a very real possibility tonight, _the part of his brain which was still capable of rational thought interjected with mocking humour.

Miaka gave a startled gasp as his hand found its way under her panties to gently massage her _there_. She bucked against him, straining for something that was just beyond her reach. The next thing she knew, he'd somehow managed to make that last item of clothing disappear. Instinctively she tried to turn away, to hide herself, embarrassed that he could see where her body wept eagerly for him.

When their gazes collided, his eyes were almost completely black, with only a thin rim of bright blue blazing at her. And then, the proud, arrogant shogun who bowed to no one knelt between her legs, coaxing them apart, and lowered his mouth to give her the most intimate of kisses. The first touch of his tongue against her most sensitive flesh brought her back arching off the bed. The second brought a low scream from her throat as pleasure sizzled through her nerve-endings only to collect in an ever tightening coil.

_Dear Gods…_Nicholas fought to keep himself under control; feeling himself hardening even further. She tasted sweet all over, like strawberry wine.

Just as Miaka thought that her lungs would give out, he dipped a finger inside her, gently pressing deep and withdrawing, repeating the action until she writhed mindlessly with need. He gave her no respite. A second finger joined the first, pushing deeper, ensuring her readiness. He touched her body, then he reached inside and touched her soul; whispering without words, the emotions he dared not reveal.

The sight of her pleasure was the most arousing thing he had ever seen. Nicholas lifted himself, planting a kiss on the feminine curve of her belly as he made his way back up her body, fitting himself against her. He was poised, swollen and ready, at her entrance. Looking down into her face, his heart skipped a beat…the love and trust he saw in her eyes humbled him. He rested his forehead against her smooth brow for a moment, "For the pain this will cause, I apologise," he said softly.

_So here we go,  
Let's just dance.  
Teach my soul to take this chance.  
Put my heart  
In your hands.  
Out of all the moments that we leave behind,  
Turn around and tell me baby,  
We'll remember…_

With one smooth, sure thrust, he entered her, making her his. He heard her stifled cry, felt her body surrender to him, and knew the exquisite joy of possessing her heart and soul. A faint glimmer of moisture at the corners of her eyes pricked at his conscience and his mouth sought her trembling lips to distract her. The urge to move was overwhelming, but he held himself still, waiting her to adjust to his size. He wanted this first joining with her to last, but he feared that he'd waited too long, not sure if he could hold back. This was her first time; she was very small…and so very tight…

After a long, torturous minute, he carefully shifted his hips, watching for the slightest sign of discomfort. His worries proved unfounded…Her spine arched like a bow, bringing them closer, and her nails dug into the perspiration-slicked skin of his back as she moaned at the incredible sensation which was swiftly replacing the pain.

"Oh my god…Nakago…." He rocked gently against her; sheathed to the hilt. Just as he filled her body so completely, he filled her heart, warming the places she had not even known were empty. How had she lived so long without him? She shook with the force of all the emotions swirling within her…the way he made love to her spoke louder than words ever would. This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with…the man she loved more than life itself. For him, she would fight Tenkou a thousand times over. For him, she would go through hell and back, because if she lost him…She'd be lost herself.

She clung to him, hanging on for dear life. Driven by mutual urgency, they moved together in a sensuous dance, drowning in the feel of finally being together…of being a part of each other. The pressure built rapidly, until she was aware of nothing else but Nakago and the erotic rhythm he set. Wrapping her legs around him, her body tightened inexorably until she was desperately begging for release.

He gave her pleasure, over and over again, the heated liquid silk of her arousal easing his passage. Miaka's inner muscles clenched around him, her body gripping him tightly in its velvet clasp. Nicholas felt the first ripples of her impending climax and knew that neither of them would last much longer.

Slipping a hand to where they were intimately joined, he found the aching bundle of nerves between her thighs and stroked expertly with just enough pressure to set her on fire.

"Fly for me," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, "I will be here to catch you."

She tipped helplessly over the edge.

And he was right there with her, holding her is the stars exploded around them.

* * *

She lay quietly in his arms, heartbeat slowing, matching the tempo of his. Her body felt deliciously heavy, boneless. Miaka closed her eyes and inhaled, his scent surrounded her making her think of dark nights, fresh mint and spring rain.

Her lover stirred, lazily brushing aside the heavy fall of tousled russet hair to place a kiss where her neck and shoulder met. With a start, she realised that he was still snug and warm inside her, his every movement sending renewed bolts of heat shooting through her system.

"Your brother will be upset we did not wait," his sudden statement was a low rumble in his chest. Idly stroking down the soft skin of her side, his hand came to rest possessively on her bare waist.

Lifting her head up, she blinked trying to clear the sensual haze which threatened to turn her into a mindless puddle of need. "It's none of his business!" she managed to mutter, feeling her cheeks burning when she was met with the full force of his hungry masculine appraisal.

His palm trailed along the length of her thigh, "What about you?" he asked, his voice husky and infinitely sexy.

Miaka felt her pulse and temperature starting to rise again. Why was he insisting on having this conversation when all she could focus on was his touch and what it was doing to her? _Oh God…._He had cupped the back of her knee, and was bringing it up to drape over his hip, opening her further to him. "M-…Me?"

The blonde former Seiryuu seishi ceased his slow seduction for the moment, and she barely succeeded in swallowing back a whimper of protest. "You strike me as the type who would have wanted to wait until our wedding night. I took that from you. I am sorry—"

She put her fingers over his lips, stopping him before he could finish. "Don't be," she snuggled against him, resting her cheek on his broad chest, "I let go of that notion a long time ago, the night I went looking for you in Hokkan." She felt him inhale deeply at her admission, the past and the present binding them together irrevocably. "I never did thank you…for not taking advantage back then. But it seemed so right tonight…with you. Being a virgin on my wedding night no longer seemed important…and it didn't matter, as long as you were the one…" She looked up at him, love, laughter and sultry desire shining in her luminous hazel gaze, "Was that your way of proposing to me, by any chance?"

A corner of his mouth lifted in a ghost of a smirk, "As you wish." She understood him better than she gave herself credit for.

Forgetting the position they were in, she sat up so she could elbow him in the ribs. The resulting jolt of pleasure tore a groan from her and a low growl from him.

A flash of lightning streaked across the black sky, followed by a loud rumble of thunder as the storm drenched the city.

Without the slightest warning, he rolled them both to the edge of the bed and smoothly got to his feet, somehow managing to lift her out of the tangled sheets without even once breaking contact.

"Nakago! What the—" she squeaked, but her body knew what to do even if her mind did not. Her arms looped behind his neck and her legs instinctively wrapped around him for support.

"Would you care for a shower, Koibito?" There was a strange, wicked gleam of pure male satisfaction in his clear silver-blue eyes.

"B-But—"

And then, before she could even guess at what he had in mind, the _kokoro_ symbol flared brightly into existence on his forehead.

_The thunder and the rain,  
The way you say my name;  
After all the clouds go by,  
The simple things remain.  
The sun, the moon, the stars,  
The beating of two hearts…  
How I love the simple things,  
The simple things just are._

The glass doors to the bedroom balcony flew open at his command, and he carried her, naked, into the cold, glittering downpour…

* * *

(Six months later, somewhere in Greece)

She was standing on a beautiful black sand beach watching the stars appearing one by one in the twilit sky. Behind her, perched high on a cliff overlooking the sea, a magnificent house blazed with lights, a party (no doubt led by Keisuke and her new _sister-in-law, _who was as different from Nakago as night from day) already in full swing. Just like in her vision, there were poles driven into the sand along the shoreline, adorned with white and gold satin ribbons, fragrant flowers and masses of gauze. The breeze tugged playfully at the gossamer-fine veil in her hair and the white silk and organza of her skirt.

The fairytale wedding, this breathtaking place, her exquisite dress…Nakago had somehow managed to arrange it all. All she had to do was turn up on time. He had even flown her friends and family here from Japan to be with her. How had he known about her secret dreams…?

"I knew I would find you down here," A deep familiar voice commented, as he drew level with her.

Just like when she had first seen him earlier, when they had taken their vows, her breath caught in her throat. He was gorgeous in his formal tuxedo which fit him like a glove. She still had to pinch herself sometimes, to make sure that she wasn't dreaming and that this complex, sinfully handsome man was truly hers.

The months which had passed since that fateful night in his apartment had been both hectic and deliriously happy. She had started university, and they had made plans for their life together. It amused him to no end that she had chosen to major in Economics and that she was really rather good at it, as long as she translated everything into terms of hamburgers and strawberry sundaes. He was always there to explain things to her should she need it. Not that she asked for his help very often. She had also decided to take up a minor in ancient Chinese theology and was proving to be proficient in that too since they had both _lived_ through it.

Not all of it had been easy sailing though…she had wept, screamed at, and almost strangled him when he'd deigned to tell her why he had tried to literally _will _her the apartment. The near-fatal accident had reminded him of his own mortality and he had wanted her to be taken care of, even if she was engaged to marry Hotohori as he'd believed at the time. "_You would always have a place to call your own in case of emergencies," _were his exact words. Miaka did not know which upset her more; the fact that he had nearly gotten himself killed or that he planned for contingencies which factored in his demise. Nakago still insisted that the penthouse would legally become hers in the event anything happened to him, and had made her sign the new documents drawn up by his lawyer friend. She'd finally agreed to do so, but on one condition: That it would only be effective _after_ their marriage. On this point, she had been stubbornly determined not to give in…she refused to accept charity from him. The scene in Shinji's office had been an uncomfortable one, and although the lawyer had tried to appear as stoic as his client, Miaka had noticed the flicker of bemused humour in the other man's dark eyes.

They had not made love again since that first time, mutually agreeing to abstain until they were married. Tonight, she would become his wife in all the ways that counted. The prospect caused her to shiver in anticipation.

Warm hands rested on her bare shoulders, "Cold?"

Miaka shook her head, turning to stare up into the cerulean blue eyes of the man who was now her husband. She loved him more with every day that passed, accepting him for all that he was and all that he had been. "Aishiteru anata, so much it hurts…" she whispered, striving not to turn on the water-works again and ruin the make-up that Yui and Stephanie had done a fantastic job on.

Nicholas cupped his bride's cheek as memories spun around them, from their very first meeting at the gates of Kutou, to the moment the minister had pronounced them man and wife on this very beach. And something else, an odd sense that there was more; that he had been waiting for her all his life… As both Gi Ayuru and Nicholas Raine. Filing the thought away to analyse at a later date, he leaned down to capture her lips in a tender, passionate assault. Amid wolf-whistles and cheers, he had kissed her for the benefit of their audience earlier, but this one was for her and no one else.

"Thank you," he said quietly as he held her small, slender body close, loving her more than he ever believed possible. For her courage and her strength. For the tears she had cried even when he had not deserved them. For simply being who she was. "For forgiving me when no one else could."

A cause and effect. In a single defining moment in time, she had made a decision that had changed the course of both their lives forever.

_The ocean and the sky,  
The way we feel tonight;  
I know that it's the love that brings,  
The simple things to life.  
The sun, the moon, the stars,  
The beating of two hearts;  
I love the way the simple things,  
The simple things just are._

They stood together by the sea, under a sky filled with brilliant stars, poised on the cusp of the future which awaited them. 

_I love the way the simple things…_

But for now, the night was theirs alone. The rest of the world could do without them for a little while longer.  
_  
…Just are._

—_**The beginning**_—

* * *

Notes:

1) And there you have it, the conclusion of Crossroads! I know this chapter was a long time coming, but I had to wrestle with a few issues, both Real Life and Fanfiction-related. I decided that I had to take a step back and think long and hard about where I wanted this story to go. Crossroads is very special to me, because it charts my growth as an author and spans a period of my life when a lot of changes were taking place. I first started writing it back in 2002, and now five years later, it is finally completed. A part of me is sad that this story is done, but as with all good things, it _must_ come to an end. However, you will notice that I have not used the traditional _The End_, because it's not…at least not for Nakago and Miaka, or for me as a writer.

2) I broke quite a few of my own rules with this story, the first of many being: _Thou shalt not write characters in blatantly sexual situations. _As you can see, the rating has been changed to _M_ in light of that, and I hope the scene did not offend anyone. I tried to keep it as tasteful and romantic as possible, while striving to convey the innate sensuality that is surely a part of Nakago's nature. One of the main reasons this chapter took so long for me to write was because I was torn between sticking to my PG-13 rating rule and having Nakago and Miaka act on their feelings in the most basic and human of ways.

I know many of you expected Miaka to wait until her wedding night, but sometimes things happen which drive people to grab hold of the moment and simply _live _it as if it is their last. As for Nakago/Nicholas, I wanted to show him finally losing his much-treasured control, giving in to impulse for once...Miaka is the only person who can make him do that. Sexual desire is part and parcel of the love they feel for each other, and I think that it's a far more mature type of love compared to what Miaka had with Tamahome. The consummation of their relationship is mutually consensual, and Nakago/Nicholas would have stopped if Miaka had been unwilling or if she had shown the slightest uncertainty. All the other times they almost ended up having sex, there had been some other factor at work. The first incident was in Chapter 4, after they are attacked by thugs and Nakago fights them off, causing his hormones to go haywire. He stops himself because he knows that it's an after-effect of the adrenaline rush. The second time was in Chapter 11, when Miaka drunkenly attempts to seduce him. Again, he holds back because she is not in her right mind and is acting under duress. But one thing is always constant: He always thinks about how it will impact her first because he _never stops loving her. _Even after they make love, concern for her and his sense of honour compels him to apologise for taking her virginity before marriage.

Then it's Miaka's turn to surprise him with her response about the virgin-on-her-wedding-night issue. I did this for several reasons:

(i) This ties back to the original anime plot (Remember it? You are forgiven if your memory of it has been completely warped by my stories...) when she goes looking for Nakago in Hokkan, prepared to have intercourse with him to get the shinzaho back.

(ii) She has made the transition from child to woman, and has left some of her idealistic dreams behind. She has grown up, and is finally ready to accept the adult love Nakago offers and love him the same way in return.

(iii) ...Because it's actually in character for her! (Gasp!) She makes love with Taka in the last episode of the OVAs _before_ they are married. Therefore...it's almost canon! (And Alcestis is one sick, twisted puppy)

3) The lyrics of the song which features so prominently in this chapter is "Simple Things" by Jim Brickman featuring Rebecca Lynn Howard. I have included a link in my Author Bio for those of you interested in listening to the song.

4) Lastly, to all the readers, new and old, who have taken the time to read and review this story…some of you have doggedly followed this trilogy over the years. Thank you. To all the other writers out there, most notably Nel and Stormlight, your stories continue to inspire me. Let's push the limits of fanfiction possibilities, and then boldly go _beyond_ them!

So, until the next time, _Ja, ne_!


End file.
